


A Lid For Every Pot, George Weasley

by BooksVCigarettes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksVCigarettes/pseuds/BooksVCigarettes
Summary: Set post-war. Still struggling with the absence of his twin, George Weasley needs some time away from the world he grew up in to heal. Alice Clark wants a flatmate who doesn't want to kill and eat her. It was perfect... Except not really.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nobody except Alice

Alice Clark didn't believe in ghosts.

That is, she didn't believe in ghosts until one grinned at her from across her living room where he sat perched atop her bookcase wearing a purple fedora. And even then she thought it was her flatmate.

Until she realised there was no possible way that his ear could have grown back.

But there's no use starting a story in the middle.


	2. Day-Drinking

The day Alice Clark took to social media to advertise for a new flat mate was not her finest hour. Sat on her sofa in her pyjamas, unable to accurately gauge when she had showered last, surrounded by tissues, drinking wine at eleven AM and barely able to see through eyes that were swollen from crying, she tapped out a Facebook status she felt sure was so drenched in misery that it would garner not a single reply.

"Suddenly find myself alone in the flat that I previously shared with a man who I thought wanted to marry me when we went on holiday together a fortnight ago," Alice spoke aloud, sniffling as she typed "Turns out what he actually wanted to do was shag my sister. Therefore have double room available to rent to someone I hope will be as absent as possible but will still raise the alarm if flies begin to gather outside my bedroom door. Deaf Mute Ninjas preferred." Taking a gulp of wine, she read back over what she had written:

'Back from holiday and have newly available double bedroom in my flat if anyone knows anyone looking to rent near Charing Cross Road. Non-smoking professional desirable. Rates and utilities included.' Her logic in appealing to Social Media for a flatmate was based wholly on her desire not to accidentally lease to a serial killer. Not of course, that she could guarantee that she wouldn't end up with a total lunatic. But at least if she had an acquaintance in common with them, it would be harder for them to do a runner in the middle of the night.

Sighing heavily, she hit 'Post' and went back to shopping online for work clothes that would hide the fact that she had gained nearly a stone in the last fortnight by subsisting on whatever food she could have delivered. Her first faculty meeting of the year was in a week's time and apparently not content with simply wallowing in her misery, Alice had spent the previous afternoon standing in front of her bedroom mirror in her underwear with a dress that had fit her perfectly a month before stuck halfway up her legs.

The flat was offensively warm and completely silent. She had, in a fit of frustration and melodramatic grief slammed all of the windows shut on what had turned out to be the hottest day of the year so far. She couldn't bear to hear the sounds of people being happy outside. That and the fact the fact that she had banned any and all unnecessary auditory stimuli from the flat following an incident the week before when she had switched the radio on and immediately began drowning in the sensory overload caused by the noise.

When she was young, she had just assumed that everyone could see sounds like she could. It was only when she had observed in front of her mother that Pink Floyd looked like peeling wallpaper that she began to suspect that she was perhaps not like everyone else. After several doctors' appointments, a CAT scan and an MRI, the diagnosis was confirmed: Synesthesia. Once she had established that her daughter was not dying of some terminal illness from which she might garner some attention, Evelyn Clark had encouraged Alice to draw as little attention to the misalignment of her senses as possible. Pete hadn't liked it much either "It makes you act like you're drugged up." He had reproached once when they had been to a gig. In hindsight, that should probably have been one of the warning signs. Pete had somehow managed to find a way to make her feel bad about enjoying her favourite thing. That, added to a six month affair with her younger sister culminating in a spectacular break-up on the final evening of their holiday, had conspired to make Alice feel like a complete fool.

A few hundred pounds and half a bottle of wine later, she glumly checked her messages. Quickly scrolling past the messages she knew were no good (anything starting with 'babes' or referring to Pete went straight into the trash), she was left with a depressingly small number. One message came from a guy that worked in her department, Mitchell. She hated Mitchell and suspected she would hate his pretentious friend even more. Before she had left for what she assumed would be her engagement holiday, she had attended departmental drinks where the conversation had somehow turned to marriage. Mitchell had held forth at length about how he didn't believe in matrimony because 'why would women want anyone to own them?'. Alice barely skimmed his message before clicking the delete button and turning her attention to the other message that had caught her eye.

_'You have 1 unread message from Hermione Granger'_

"Hermione?" Alice murmured to herself. That was a name she hadn't heard in years. They had been best friends in primary school before Hermione had been transferred to a swish private boarding school up in Scotland somewhere. About a year and a half ago, she had joined Facebook and added Alice as a friend. Alice had been pleased at the time and had made a mental note to get in touch with Hermione at some point, but in all honesty whenever she sat down to do it, she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Perhaps too much time had passed for them to be anything other than superficial acquaintances. She clicked to open the message:

_Hello Alice,_

_I know it's been a long time since we spoke properly - I wasn't particularly good at keeping in touch with people from Primary School. I hope you are well? I can see from your profile that you're a lecturer now - that must be so interesting._

_I saw today that you're currently looking for a flatmate. If you haven't already found somebody, I was wondering if you would consider my fiancé's brother George? He's looking to move to the area and I think he would be a very considerate lodger._

_Best Wishes_

_Hermione_

Alice considered her options. She could conceivably manage another month of the mortgage without funding becoming a serious problem. She did not need to make a snap decision. But there was something in Hermione's message that made her wonder. Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of a message from the little bushy-haired girl who used to help her catch frogspawn when they were small? Would it be sensible of her to trust someone she hadn't seen in nearly fifteen years?

Perhaps it was Hermione's use of the word 'considerate'. In her emotionally raw state, the idea that someone might be considerate of Alice was potentially too attractive to pass up.

A flurry of movement at the bottom of the screen caught her eye.

_Hermione is typing..._

Alice sipped her wine and waited patiently for Hermione's next message.

_Sorry, that was a bit cryptic wasn't it? I don't really like using Facebook. I only joined to be a bit nosy and see what people I knew years ago are doing now. Are you free for a coffee today?_

There was something in the unexpectedly conspiratorial way that Hermione had confessed this to her that made Alice warm to the childhood friend that she had in part considered long-lost. This, coupled with her wine buzz and the glowing embers of nostalgia gave her a sense of abandon.

 _I'm free all day today,_ she wrote back hurriedly before she could change her mind, _where do you want to meet?_


	3. Distraction

_Hello Alice,_

_I know it's been a long time since we spoke properly - I wasn't particularly good at keeping in touch with people from Primary School. I hope you are well? I can see from your profile that you're a lecturer now - that must be so interesting._

_I saw today that you're currently looking for a flatmate. If you haven't already found somebody, I was wondering if you would consider my fiancé's brother George? He's looking to move to the area and I think he would be a very considerate lodger._

_Best Wishes_

_Hermione_

Hermione paused, hovering the cursor over the 'Send' button. Was she getting too involved here? Had George really meant what he'd said at the engagement party?

She was worried about him; they all were. Although the days of unsolicited enraged outbursts seemed to be (fingers crossed) behind them, the remaining Weasley twin could under no circumstances be considered to be grieving healthily. Following the second war, he had been inconsolable in his sadness, sometimes failing to speak for days and on others flying into a temper over nothing. Being the gentler of the twins, this had terrified his already bereft mother and in the end, Bill had had to have a quiet word. No one knew exactly what he had said, but following the conversation George had made a concerted effort to keep his emotions under control.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes continued to run under the management of Lee Jordan, but no one could remember the last time George had set foot in the store. Instead, George worked from his father's old shed at The Burrow, concocting new recipes and sending them to Lee via Owl. He would work through the night and rarely slept. The summer after the second war he had, for a brief period and on the insistence of Molly, gone to stay with Charlie in Romania for an enforced period of rest. This lasted approximately ninety-three hours before he apparated back into his parent's kitchen and stomped off to the shed muttering something about Pikey-Drifts.

The trouble was, Hermione mused sadly, was that each of them was broken in some way by the chaos left by Lord Voldemort, and while that lent a level of comfort of knowing you would never have to explain why for example, finding three meticulously hidden sets of extendable ears hanging inside the Burrow's kitchen fireplace was enough to make Ginny burst into tears, it didn't make any of them the kind of stable supporting influence George needed. Yes, their grief united them, but in some ways it also made them islands, flung far apart in a tumultuous sea. Occasionally Ron would say he thought George was being selfish, treating his pain as though it were worse than everyone else's. Hermione knew that George didn't think his grief was any bigger than the rest of theirs and would never for a moment believe that his pain was more important.

Hermione turned her attention back to the screen, on her message to a girl whom at the age of eight, she had sworn to be best friends with forever. Alice Clark had been as shy as she was when they had met on the first day of school. Hermione had been enthralled by her quiet but assured observation that the hymns their Roman Catholic primary school forced them to sing looked like the rain. Alice had stood up for her when the other children made fun of her bushy hair and Hermione had comforted Alice when she had been scolded by her mother for 'drawing attention' to her condition. When Hermione got her letter for Hogwarts she prayed that Alice had gotten one too, prayed that they could be witches together. She had been warned that she wasn't allowed to tell any friends who didn't get letters and when she found out that Alice wouldn't be going to Hogwarts as well she had cried into her pillow, not knowing how she would cope with moving to a brand new school without her best friend next to her. And then she had met Harry and Ron and the little fair-haired girl gradually became a part of her past.

Sighing, she read through the message again and wondered how crazy it was to get in touch with someone she hadn't seen in over ten years because her brother-in-law to be had decided he wanted to give up magic. 

_"I'm just... Not sure I can keep doing this anymore." He looked exhausted. Hermione supposed he still wasn't sleeping. She cocked her head at him. "Keep doing what?" All around them, the party was in full swing. The Weasleys had once against set up the gigantic tent in their garden in order to celebrate the engagement of their youngest son. Above them, a gigantic banner spelt out the words 'HAPPY ENGAGEMENT RON+HERMIONE!'. Across the room, she could see her parents, their memories newly restored to them, politely explaining to Arthur Weasley the function of a muggle coffee machine._

_George ran a hand through his hair "This world. I'm not sure I want to live in the wizarding world anymore."_

_"You mean you want to give up magic?" It was an unusual wish, although it had become more common in the days following the second war. Many witches and wizards who couldn't bear the thought of raising their children in a world where such atrocities had happened so recently had applied to the ministry asking to be relocated into the muggle world and given new identities. They were having to draw up paperwork that ensured any future Hogwarts letters pertaining to their children be withheld. Hermione was part of the task force to determine which applicants were credible and which were Lord Voldemort's followers looking for an escape route._

_George smiled sadly. He had grown into such a handsome young man. Even the loss of his left ear had done nothing to diminish his charming visage - he was still, by most standards, pretty dishy. “I can't handle being reminded every day. I wanted so much to make Fred proud by keeping the shop going but I can hardly stand to walk in there. Living at the Burrow doesn't help either. I don't want to feel like this anymore. Maybe if I get away I won't."_

_Hermione felt her heart crack a little. There was a desperate edge to George's voice "George, have you thought about this? I mean really thought about it. If you apply to be relocated, you would never see your family again. What do you think that would do to them? It's so drastic." An idea struck her "What about a break?"_

_A shadow passed over George's face "I don't think a holiday is really what I need right now, Hermione-"_

_"No, I mean a break. Six months, a year. Go travelling. Rent a flat in London. Take a break from the shop." She reached out a hand to squeeze his shoulder "It might help to get some distance. And if you decide that it works for you, you can apply for relocation then."_

_George didn't look convinced. Hermione tried again "George, applying for relocation is something you can't take back. Not to mention the fact that your mum would murder me if I passed your application."_

_George smiled wryly. He knew she was right "I don't know anything about living in the muggle world though. Is it hard?"_

And that was it. George had asked her to help him and that was what she was going to do. She had been checking out single occupancy flats for him for a couple of weeks now, but they were mostly completely unsuitable. And if she were honest, Hermione wasn't sure that George would do so well by himself after a lifetime of living in a crowd. And this way, they would have a shared acquaintance - not that Hermione was planning on keeping an eye on George or anything. It was a risk, involving a muggle. They would have to come up with a convincing cover story - but then, if George was proposing to give up magic permanently, what better time to start than immediately? Hermione took a deep breath and hit 'Send'.

X x X

Alice grimaced at her reflection. The shower, although admittedly refreshing, had done nothing to diminish the bags under her eyes or make her clothes any less tight. But perhaps she had been asking too much. At least now her hair didn't smell of stale tears and Chinese food.

She had agreed to meet Hermione at a coffee shop in Leicester Square which was usually one of her favourite haunts, but today Alice felt nervous at the prospect of leaving the house after being cooped up for so long. Sometimes, after a long period of minimal stimuli, her synesthesia would be difficult to manage. Stress or excitement seemed to make it more intense as well. For what felt like the hundredth time, she checked her handbag for her headphones and dark glasses before taking a deep breath and stepping out into the world.

The early September air was a little stiff around the edges and felt pleasing on her skin. The sun was watery but had the sky to itself. The leaves on the trees were only just beginning to show signs of old age and in spite of herself, Alice smiled. Autumn was the best time of year. She checked her watch. Nearly school kicking-out time, and she was coming to a busy main road where music tended to blast out of open car windows and send her on an unsolicited trip much like the ones she imagined LSD users chased after. Dipping her hand into her bag for her headphones, Alice sometimes found it easier if she could control what auditory stimuli she was getting. She steeled herself and pressed play on her 'Bland' playlist.

She spotted Hermione a mile off; the slightly mousy girl whose hip Alice had been joined to as a child had turned into an impossibly pretty young woman. She hadn't posted a profile picture on Facebook and Alice had been slightly worried that she wouldn't be able to pick her out in a crowd. Her hair, which had always seemed untameable, had somehow relaxed into wavy curls which she had fixed in a neat ponytail. She was dressed for the office, which made Alice suddenly conscious of her leggings and twelve year old sweater. She wondered if Hermione would be able to tell her from the profile picture she had posted, back when she and Pete had been together and she had been two dress sizes smaller and her eyes weren't like two pinholes in the snow.

X x X

"So tell me about this George Weasley guy?" Alice rattled the spoon against her coffee cup and wished it was late enough for wine. Hermione sighed a little sadly.

"George is Ron's older brother-"

"-Ron is your fiancé?" Hermione nodded, smiling bashfully and Alice tried to ignore the knife that was twisting in her gut "We were at school together. George was two years ahead of us along with his twin, Fred." Alice watched Hermione's eyes tear a little and passed her a tissue "What happened?"

Hermione dabbed at her eyes and gave Alice a wobbly smile "They were in the army. Fred was killed in an explosion a few years ago. Ever since, George has been a different person. He was living at home with Ron and their sister to make sure their mum and dad were OK, but since Ron and Ginny have moved out, I think it's been even harder for him to be alone without his brothers and sister in the place where he spent so much time with Fred."

"That's terrible; I'm so sorry Hermione." Alice meant it. She sipped her coffee and wondered whether this had been a good idea after all. What if this George turned out to be a battle-hardened, mentally unstable PTSD sufferer? "What does he do now? For a living, I mean."

"He and Fred had a business. It's still doing well, but I think he's planning to take some time away from it."

"What's the business?"

Hermione glanced away briefly "It's a joke shop."

Alice raised her eyebrows. That was unexpected "You don't hear of many ex-soldiers doing that."

"It was their childhood dream." Hermione offered by way of explanation and Alice was vaguely suspicious that an effort to change the subject was on it's way. She made a mental note to revisit this subject in more detail before committing her guest room to a stranger. Hermione sipped her own coffee "Anyway, that enough about me - tell me about yourself."

Alice shrugged "Not a lot to tell. After school I went to university and pretty much never left. I finished my PhD last year and now I'm lecturing in Criminal Psychology. I consult with the police sometimes. Oh, and I sing with a band occasionally." _And up until two weeks ago I didn't know my boyfriend was having an affair with my sister and I was much, much happier._

Hermione smiled warmly "That's wonderful Alice; what an achievement."

Alice smiled back in spite of herself "And you? What amazing thing have you committed your extreme talents to?"

Hermione blushed "Government employee - Office work mostly. I'm responsible for relocating those affected by war." She glanced fondly at her ring finger "And there's the wedding of course. Ron's hopeless at planning but luckily his mother isn't."

Alice tried to hide her trembling lip behind a huge smile "You must be so excited."

Hermione grinned. They chatted idly for another half an hour before Hermione looked at her watch "I really should be going, but it was so nice to catch up with you, Alice. Do you think you might consider George as a lodger? He really is such a good person, and I think he'd be a great flatmate."

"I have a few people coming to see the flat this week," Alice lied smoothly "But you putting in a good word does mean a lot. Do you have a mobile number I can contact him on?"

"George doesn't own a mobile I'm afraid. He's ah - a bit hopeless with technology." Did Hermione seem vaguely flustered at this question? And how could an ex-soldier be hopeless with technology? "Would you meet him in person? I'd be happy to introduce you."

Alice couldn't tell if she was curious to meet this technologically challenged ex-combatant with a joke shop because she thought he might make a good flatmate (on the one hand, Hermione had never steered her wrong, but on the other hand the last time she had even had a chance to do so they had been ten years old), or if she was simply curious to meet him in order to see if such a person did indeed exist. As Alice watched Hermione disappear into the crowds on Leicester Square, she realised that today had been the first day in weeks that her thoughts hadn't been totally monopolised with her own heartbreak.

"That's one point in your favour, George Weasley." She murmured to herself, before turning toward Charing Cross Road and home, making her way through the commuters and schoolchildren, ruminating on a man who up until that day, she hadn't known existed.


	4. Drenched

Alice stared mournfully out of the window as the rain bucketed down. It felt like the sky had been overcast for a hundred years and the streets were waterlogged. Despite having finally found a lodger, her mood had yet to improve. She had, at least for now, stopped crying and was limiting herself to alcohol only in the evenings, more to try and shift her post break-up weight gain than anything else. She had attended her first faculty meeting of the year four days previously and, as she had correctly predicted, her inability to wear any of her old clothes had garnered the wrong kind of attention from Mitchell, the arsehole who (it now transpired) had been promoted to Award Leader. He had looked at her with overly sincere concern as she hovered self consciously at the back of the room, her all-black attire completely conspicuous among flip-flop and harem pant wearing colleagues, refreshed and renewed from their summer holidays.

"Alice, I was so sorry to hear about you and Pete," he jutted out his bottom lip in a childlike pout "I want you to know that if you need anything, my door is always open. I like to make sure my staff is well looked after. Such a _shame_ you found a lodger before you could meet Tarquin. I think you two would have really hit it off."

Alice told herself later that she had deliberately stuffed her mouth with sausage roll the minute she had seen him make a beeline for her in order to stop herself from biting him, but in her heart she had to admit that it had only been a fortunate accident. Nevertheless she had arrived home and slept in her gym clothes, resolving to wake up the next morning and pull herself together. Teddy and the rest of the band had been texting and emailing, imploring her to make a date with them to rehearse as they had a few gigs lined up in September. She had to get it together.

And then there had been Hermione. Alice had forgotten how sweet her childhood friend had been. A couple of days after they had met for coffee, Hermione had sent another Facebook message asking Alice if she would like to meet her, along with George and her fiancé Ron for a coffee 'unless you've already found someone amongst the people you were meeting this week?'

Alice had stared at the screen for a moment before remembering her fib. She had had a few more messages about friends of friends but thus far had yet to come across anyone remotely suitable. Was she the only person in her circle of friends who didn't own a bong? Somehow if he was associated with Hermione, Alice suspected that this at the very least, would not be a problem with George.

'Haven't been successful so far,' she admitted in her reply 'would be delighted to meet you all. When and where?'

They had met in the same cafe in Leicester square. Hermione's fiancé Ron was a sweet looking man who obviously doted on his betrothed. He and his older brother George had the reddest hair she had ever seen on anyone outside of a cartoon. Alice shook hands with both of them and the four of them sat in awkward silence whilst waiting for a barista to take their order. Alice had taken the opportunity to covertly study her potential lodger.

Tall, very tall. Lean, verging on slightly gangly. Handsome, if you like the shy, haunted look. His missing ear was not nearly as much of a distraction as she had anticipated that it would be. Alice wondered why he hadn't opted for reconstructive surgery. He stared mostly at the table or at the menu. Not glued to a smartphone she noticed, remembering what Hermione had said about him not owning a mobile phone. Was he still suffering very much with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? He didn't really act like an ex-soldier. His hands and fingers were nimble but calloused, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the tablecloth. His eyes met hers briefly and he flashed an apologetic but ultimately empty smile at her. Alice felt sad for him.

"So George, remind me what it is you do? Hermione mentioned it but I've forgotten..." She'd inquired as the Barista set their coffees down on the table.

George's eyes flashed up to hers once more and he cleared his throat awkwardly, as though he hadn't been expecting to have to talk "I'm... I own a joke shop."

"The best joke shop in London." Ron had contributed proudly, smiling encouragingly at his older brother before wincing slightly and turning wounded eyes on Hermione. George had glared over the rim of his coffee cup at Ron momentarily before turning back to Alice "I've... decided to take some time away from the business. Someone else is handling it for me."

Alice nodded, wondering why this admission had been cause for Hermione to stop Ron from talking about the joke shop "Do you have any plans for your time away from the business?" A thought struck her. Perhaps George was planning to travel – wasn't that what 'taking time out' meant these days? Maybe he just wanted to use the flat as a base while he island-hopped in Thailand or something. Her spirits lifted slightly; maybe this wouldn't be the disaster she had thought.

Hermione had jumped in then, asking Alice how things were going at the university. The rest of coffee had passed with a marginal undercurrent of awkwardness, much like a blind date. Alice had arrived home and messaged Hermione to ask when George wanted to move in.

And so, here she was, watching the rain batter the streets and waiting in for her new lodger to arrive so she could furnish him with his keys and hopefully not see him for at least three weeks. He was only a little late, but Alice had promised the band she would be there to rehearse that night and didn't want to have to catch the tube in the rush hour. George didn't have a car, so Alice had assumed that she was watching for a cab to pull up. When the downstairs doorbell rang and there was still no sign of a taxi, Alice hadn't expected to open the door to find a soaking wet George stood on the step, flaming hair plastered to his forehead and his coat collar and shoulders up around his ears (or, ear) to keep the rain from running down his neck. Next to him stood a gothic looking trunk on its end and nothing else.

Alice stared at him for moment dumbfounded, opening and closing her mouth but unable to make words. The sounds of rain filled the air around them as they stood frozen in one another's presence, the cold autumn air filling the hallway. Eventually, Alice found her voice "I... you... I didn't see a cab."

George stared at her. His eyes were brown and looked as though a smile hadn't reached them in a very long time "I didn't take a cab."

Alice motioned to the trunk "Then how did you...?"

George glanced down at his luggage before turning his gaze back to her "It's uh- it's not as heavy as it looks."

"Oh." They stared at one another for a moment longer before George cleared his throat uncomfortably "Do you think I could... come in?"

Alice realised she was essentially barring him from entering the building and blushed heavily "Oh god! I'm so sorry, please come in..."

Getting George's trunk up to the first floor proved the logistical nightmare Alice had envisaged it would be. By the time they reached her landing, George had shed his overcoat and sweater and was leaning against the trunk breathing heavily, beads of perspiration replacing the raindrops on his forehead. Alice lay with her head on the landing, her legs hanging down the staircase "What was that you said about it not being heavy?" she panted, her field of vision littered with stars. George huffed a small laugh and Alice assumed that was the best she was likely to get from him.

It took another twenty minutes of solid struggling and heaving and pushing before the trunk was finally in the room Alice was letting out to George. She watched as he stood in the middle of the space, acclimatising himself to his new surroundings. He seemed to be in a daze and despite this being her flat, her spare bedroom, she felt as though she were intruding on a private moment. Her eyes drifted to her watch and she gasped as she realised that she was going to be late for her rehearsal. Looking up, she noticed George looking at her with a question in his eyes and she smiled apologetically "Listen, I'm sorry to dash but I have a rehearsal with my band tonight..." She delved into her back pocket for the keys she'd had cut that morning and held them out for him to take "These are for you. Welcome." Their hands touched briefly as George reached for the keys and Alice thought how warm his fingers were "Thank you." He said quietly. Alice bobbed her head and smiled awkwardly. For a moment they stood and stared at one another again.

"Don't you have to...?" George gestured and Alice's eyes widened as she realised that she was supposed to be leaving "Of course! Sorry! I'll... see you." She garbled as she backed out of the room and closing the door behind her, pausing in the hallway for a moment to mentally slap herself on the forehead. Idiot.

X

George watched out of the window as Alice left the building and put her umbrella up as she hurried along the street in the direction of the tube station. He waited until she was out of sight before venturing out into the flat.

It was... homey. The surfaces weren't as cluttered as The Burrow, but it felt lived in and comfortable. George spotted several spaces on the walls where photographs had probably been up until recently. The living room was tidy but cramped, with an entire wall devoted to books and another to a piano and guitar. He noticed an expensive looking set of machines set up near the sofa along with some electronic earmuffs and made a mental to note to ask Hermione or his father about them at some point. Stepping into the kitchen, he nearly blanched at the sight of several more complicated machines with spouts and spokes. Did muggles really need all of these contraptions to function every day?

It was getting dark outside, and George instinctively reached for his wand before remembering that he was supposed to be living without magic for the foreseeable. Technically he didn't have to give up magic until he had applied to the Ministry and been approved for relocation, but Hermione had made the (as usual) sensible point that if he was really proposing give up magic altogether, then now was as good a time as any to start. His mother had been thoroughly dismayed when she had learned of George's plans, but had been placated when she realised that her son would be attempting to live without the magic that had been part of his every waking moment since birth. Convinced that he wouldn't last long, she had supplied him with a parcel containing several of the everyday magical items he would need when he eventually admitted to himself that he was unable to manage. Among these was Floo powder, which Molly Weasley had tearfully handed over 'just in case you need us, dear.' George had hugged his mother tighter than he had been able to in a long time.

Returning to his room, George sat on the edge of the bed and stared around him. Spying his trunk in the corner, his mind drifted back to his and Alice's attempts to get it into the flat and silently berated himself for not considering that when he had apparated from Ottery St Catchpole into the alley next to Alice's building. George allowed himself a small smile as he remembered Alice's face, reddened by exertion as she had helped him to heave the massive item up the stairs. She seemed like a nice woman, if a little sad. George wondered if it had anything to do with the empty spaces where photographs used to be all over the flat.

"At least neither of us will torment each other with our blissful happiness..." George murmured to himself. Outside, the rain still poured. George hadn't yet figured out how to turn on the lights in the flat without using magic and the late afternoon bleakness had now given way to fully fledged dark. Suddenly, he was deathly tired and his damp clothes seemed to weigh a ton. He hadn't slept properly since before Fred... George shook his head to clear it of thoughts that could make his mood any darker than it already was. He slept when he could - odd snatches here and there. He mostly avoided sleep because that was when he dreamed, replaying that night over and over again. Shedding his shirt where he sat, he reclined on the bed to rest his eyes for a few moments and felt the pull of slumber luring him. He knew it wouldn't be worth it. But the bed was soft and the flat was mesmerisingly quiet. It was nothing like home, where he knew every sound, every creak. Where he could tell who was home by the sound of their footfalls. It was a comfort, knowing that nothing here would remind him of Fred.


	5. Daniel

The space the band used for rehearsal was part of a converted industrial warehouse in Camden, near the river. Usually, Alice loved to be able to hop on and off the tube inside of fifteen minutes but today she had arrived at the station smack in the middle of rush hour and the noise was unbearable. As she stood, crushed amongst the chatter of commuters and tinny music blaring from smartphones, she tried to distract herself. Occasionally, a bit of stimuli would slip through and she would be blindsided by a flash of colour or a collection of shapes. Alice had never been afraid of the way she saw the world, but sometimes it was just easier to pretend she was normal. Her mother hadn't liked it, her sister Sarah had just used it as a stick to beat her with and Pete had simply tolerated it as long as she pretended that it was something she didn't enjoy happening. Alice had never known her father, but inferred (somewhat bitterly) that if he'd had anything to do with her mother, he probably wouldn't have cared for his daughter's defect either. Which was why Alice loved being with the band. Up on stage or in the rehearsal room, she didn't have to pretend to see what everyone else saw. She could fly away with the music and nobody would know. It was like a secret superpower.

Alice's thoughts turned to her new flatmate. George Weasley seemed like a sweet, if ultimately broken, man. He had the kind of thousand yard stare that she had only seen on soldiers in history books. Whatever he had seen in combat, it must have been bad. She wondered what he was going to do with his time if he wasn't going to be running his business. As long as he made rent, it was no real concern of hers, but Alice couldn't help but feel curious about him. George moved around as though in a daze, as though the entire world made him sad. As though a part of him was missing. Alice remembered what Hermione had said about his twin brother and a wave of sympathy washed over her. She wondered if it was worse for twins. If they were both in the army, did that mean George had watched his brother die?

George Weasley hovered at the periphery of her consciousness all along Camden High street, the image of his sad eyes never quite leaving her. He blended in amidst her background thoughts however, as she walked into their rehearsal space and clapped eyes on a man she had never seen before "Sorry I'm- Oh!"

The man was casually leaning on the microphone stand, a shock of floppy, dirty brown hair hanging in his eyes. He stared at her expressionlessly "You must be Alice."

Alice knew her mouth was open but couldn't seem to bring herself to close it. The man smirked a little and Alice felt a blush creep up her neck "I'm – I'm Alice."

"Alice! You're back!" Teddy burst into the room and engulfed her in a hug from behind "I was beginning to think we'd never see you again! Have you met Daniel?" The man disentangled himself from the microphone stand and stretched languidly, his eyes never leaving Alice's "We're meeting now."

Alice felt a shiver go down her spine and cleared her throat awkwardly "Yes – um, hello." Feeling like a buffoon, she held her hand out for Daniel to shake. He stared at it for a moment, leaving her hanging before reaching out a tanned and graceful arm. She noticed an incredibly detailed tattoo of a serpent slithering up the inside of his bicep, rippling as his muscles flexed. His hand was soft in her grasp.

"Daniel is our new bass." Teddy was saying excitedly. Alice shook herself from her reverie and snapped her gaze to Teddy "What? What happened to Marta?"

Teddy looked hurt "Alice, didn't you get my email? Marta had to go back to Sweden a month ago. I asked if you wanted to sit in while we saw potential replacements but you never replied."

As he was saying this, Alice felt the email in question surface in her consciousness. It had arrived during the earliest days of her breakup with Pete and she could remember thinking that quite aside from the fact that Marta's decision to return to her home country was almost entirely out of the blue, sitting in on auditions for the tiny blonde bassist's replacement was the last thing she wanted to do at the time. Part of her felt a little betrayed that Teddy and Blake had signed off on a replacement without waiting for her approval too, but for all she knew they could have sent her an entire background check on this guy along with a notarised voting slip and she probably wouldn't have noticed "Right, right of course. I remember now, sorry…" She murmured. Teddy gave her arm a squeeze "It's nice to have you back, Al."

"Has that little firecracker from Charing Cross road finally made her way back to the fold?" a booming voice followed by the thump of several bags and boxes being unceremoniously dumped on the floor floating from the hallway and seconds later, Blake appeared. Blake was considerably shorter than the sound of his voice would have most people believe. During the day, he worked as a mortgage advisor but on evenings and weekends, he was a fierce drummer with dreams of playing stadiums and arenas. He strode over to Alice and pulled her into a hug that lifted her clean off of her feet which for Blake involved wrapping both arms around her hips "I see you've met Daniel the bassist? Isn't he dreamy? I wanted someone less attractive but it turns out he's a bloody good bass player too."

Alice smiled, feeling herself begin to loosen up now she was in a place she had always considered to be safe. Rehearsal went as well as could be expected considering that at least two of the band had never met before, but by the end her mood felt lighter than it had in weeks. Several times during songs she noticed Daniel's eyes lingering on her but told herself he had been watching her for the changes in the beat. She felt vulnerable under his gaze, somehow without defences. He was a good bassist, although his knowledge of popular music was a little sketchy. He claimed not to be familiar with a few of the really mainstream covers that they did, which elicited several wide-eyed stares from Teddy ('What do you mean you don't know who Bruce Springsteen is? We can't be friends.').

By the time they were ready to pack up, Alice's voice was hoarse but she felt elated. Stepping out into the chilly night she turned to head in the direction of the station once more. It took a moment for her to realise that Daniel had fallen into step beside her. “Where are you headed?" she asked, more confidently than she felt.

"Meeting some friends," he gestured vaguely toward the road past the station "Up there. You?"

"Charing Cross."

Daniel raised his eyebrows a fraction "I sometimes go to a pub there - The Leaky Cauldron. You know it?"

Alice nodded "I've walked past it a few times."

"I'll take you there one day." It was a statement, not a question to be answered or a request to be denied. Alice felt herself beginning to blush again and was grateful that it was dark out. They walked on in silence for a few moments more. Daniel's steps were unhurried, but his strides were long and suddenly Alice found herself quickening her pace to keep time with him.

"You're a good singer."

"Thanks." _Don't tell him he's a good bassist! Be cool! Look, there's the station – you just have to make it a little further without embarrassing yourself…_ "I like your tattoo." _Idiot._

Daniel glanced down at the serpent coiled on his inner bicep and smirked at her "Symbol of immortality."

Without thinking Alice snorted a laugh "That's why you got it? Excuse me while I leave the pretentious zone." As soon as the words left her mouth she felt a fool "I mean- I didn't mean to sound like-"

Daniel surveyed her with something approaching a grin "That's not why I got it. I got it because snakes are cool."

Alice clamped her mouth shut but felt a smile creeping onto her face. They had arrived at Camden station and were stood staring at one another. The rain had started again, a fine mist drizzling over both of them. Daniel nodded toward the door. "Don't miss your train." Alice once again felt completely bare under his stare, as though she could hide nothing. She swallowed hard and nodded. “I'll see you at the next rehearsal."

It took her the entire tube journey to shake herself free of the feeling his parting gaze had left her with.

X X X

Alice closed the door to the flat as quietly as possibly. No lights on – George must be an early-to-bed sort. She switched on the hallway light and moved through to the kitchen in order to put the kettle on. She was rummaging around for mugs when a stir of movement behind her caused her to turn around and come face to face with George, sans shirt. She yelped and dropped the mug she was holding, the heavy ceramic shattering loudly on the tiles. Alice tried to ignore the sensory assault this caused. Things breaking always looked like fireworks.

"You scared me!" Alice gasped, scrambling to pick up the obliterated kitchenware. George held up his hands, his eyes wide "I'm so sorry! Let me help you clean this up!" He dropped to his knees opposite her and began to gather the ceramic shards. Alice, upon seeing he was barefoot, sputtered "No honestly it's fine… please don't hurt your – fuck!" She swore emphatically as a particularly sharp piece entered her finger, drawing blood. The pieces she had already collected clattered back to the floor as she brought her finger instinctively up to her mouth but before she could get to her lips, George reached out and caught her wrist, his entire hand closing around it as though it were a twig. He pulled her to her feet and walked her over to the sink, guiding her hand under the tap. Alice, dumbfounded by his sudden tenderness, could only watch as he leaned closer to her hand to inspect it. For some reason, she thought of Daniel's hand shaking hers earlier that evening and suppressed a shiver. George's hands were rougher and more calloused than the bassist's had been, but somehow gentler.

"Nothing stuck in there, I don't think." George murmured, pressing around the edges of the cut causing her to wince "Sorry."

"It's fine. Thank you I- I think I'll be fine." Alice pulled her hand away from him and cradled it to her chest, grabbing a tea towel that Pete's mother had given them to wrap around it. George straightened and reverted to his original awkwardness. Alice felt the undercurrent of tension return to the room. Although she had to admit, the sight of him without a shirt was not unpleasant.

"I'm sorry," he said again "for scaring you, I mean. I'll replace the mug." His eyes were so sad, Alice thought. He must have been sleeping when she'd arrived home – his hair stuck up at all different angles, giving him the appearance of a lit candle. She smiled kindly at him "Please don't worry; I think it was one of my ex's – you saved me the trouble of smashing it another time. Would you like tea?"

George smiled politely "No I'm fine, thank you."

"Oh go on," Alice chided, holding up her injured hand "You're the one that's got to make it."


	6. Date?

They sat facing each other at the kitchen table, steaming mugs of tea in front of them. Alice had watched, puzzled as George had attempted to make the kettle function for a good ten minutes before leaning past him and gently flipping the switch. What kind of British adult didn't know how to brew up?

"So…" Alice began awkwardly "Is the room OK?"

George stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. When the penny dropped his eyes widened and he nodded "Oh! Yes it's fine, thank you."

"Good." Alice bobbed her head and they lapsed into uncomfortable silence once more, the only sound the ticking of the kitchen clock. Alice picked at the plaster she had put on her hand. George fidgeted in his seat. Alice was grateful that he had found time to put a shirt on – awkward silence was one thing, but absent-mindedly staring at the well-toned torso of your new lodger was another.

"You must have been really worn out from carrying that trunk if you fell asleep just after I left." Alice commented, more to fill the silence than anything "I'm sorry if I woke you when I came in."

George fiddled restlessly with the hand of his mug "Please don't worry; I… I really don't sleep that well anyway."

Alice smiled sympathetically at him, trying to think of a way to coax him into conversation "Hermione tells me you grew up in Devon?"

George nodded "In Ottery St Catchpole."

"I've never heard of it."

"No one has," he gave a small smile "It's so small I'm not even sure _I've_ heard of it."

"Was it nice growing up there?" Alice slipped her hands around her mug and settled into the conversation; sometimes, superficial small talk was the safest thing "I bet it was quite peaceful."

George shook his head, smiling at the memory "Not with five brothers and a sister."

Alice's eyes widened " _Seven_ of you?"

George's features clouded over briefly before his eyes returned to his mug "Yes, well… six now."

Alice felt a wrench in her gut as she realised her error. Feeling her face heat up she resisted the urge to flounder and make it worse "I'm so sorry; how terrible for you."

George nodded slightly and Alice could see him desperately trying to think of a reason to leave the kitchen. Not wanting her tactlessness to be his lasting memory of their first proper conversation, she tried to revive it "I only have one sister. Half-sister actually. She's five years younger than me."

George cleared his throat and glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes "Are you close to her?"

Alice snorted a laugh before she could help herself "God no; we hated each other growing up and it's no better now we're adults." She saw George blanch a little and wondered if she had shocked him. He stared at his cup of tea for a moment.

"I can't imagine not liking my siblings." He admitted quietly "My brother Percy had his moments but there was never anything… bitter between us."

"Wait until your boyfriend leaves you for one of them and then come and talk to me." Alice said wryly, blowing on her tea to cool it. George raised an eyebrow "That sort of thing actually happens?"

"I know; my life is a cliché." Alice smiled sadly, surreptitiously digging her nails into her palm to avoid a fresh onslaught of tears.

George offered her a half smile in return "I know it's not my place to say anything, but I'd be glad to see the back of someone who left me for my sister." He paused "Especially given that she likes boys."

Alice laughed "I can see how that might be a relief for you."

X

The next few weeks passed comfortably enough. The tension seemed to have alleviated enough for them to share polite pleasantries and shy smiles when passing each other in the hall or finding themselves in the kitchen at the same time. Now that the semester had started properly, Alice found she wasn't in the flat enough to find her lodger's presence a disturbance. George, for his part, was very rarely there anyway and when he was he seemed to make an effort to impact on her as little as possible. It almost seemed to Alice as though he was trying to be invisible. She didn't know where he went when he left on a morning and he never said. He never seemed to go out much on an evening though; electing to stay in his room.

Rehearsals with the band had begun to pick up as well, and soon Alice found that she could pass entire days without bitter thoughts toward Pete and her sister. Daniel had taken to leaving rehearsals at the same time as Alice and walking the distance to the tube station with her. Alice tried not to attach too much significance to this, but couldn't help but notice that occasionally when they parted, he would turn and walk back in the direction that they had come from. On these occasions, she had smiled to herself the entire tube journey home.

Saving Carla's first gig since before the summer was in a bar in Holborn on a Friday night. Alice loved playing gigs. She spent the two days leading up to it fizzing with anticipation, barely paying attention to what was going on around her. On the morning of the gig, George had been in the kitchen as she had jittered around him.

"You don't look as though you need any more coffee." He remarked quietly as she poured herself a third cup. Alice beamed at him "I'm just excited! It's been so long since we played in front of a crowd and I've missed it so much." A thought struck her "Would you like to come?"

George stared at her "You mean tonight?"

"Yes!" Alice grabbed an old envelope and scribbled the address and time on the back "I'll put your name on the guest list." She pushed the envelope into his hands "No pressure or anything," in a moment of exuberance she paused to squeeze his hand and smile encouragingly at him "But it might be fun."

George didn't look convinced, but pocketed the envelope anyway.

X

"So this lodger of yours, is he pretty?" Teddy paused to wipe the sweat off of his forehead with the hem of his t-shirt as he lugged another amp onto the slightly built up area that the pub they were performing in laughingly called a 'stage' "Is that why you put him on the guest list tonight?"

Alice grimaced at him. Once the enormous amount of caffeine she had ingested had worn off, she had realised that it was entirely possible that the invitation she had extended to George that morning could in fact be interpreted as a 'date' – or if not a date, a prelude to one. Upon realising this, she had rushed into the office of Abigail (a junior lecturer and her only ally in the department) and blurted out her problem before sinking into a chair and covering her face with her hands.

_Earlier That Day_

_Abigail observed Alice's near-breakdown in the same impassive way that she observed everything. She was silent for a moment before turning back to her computer "Do you want it to be a date?"_

_"Abbie, I barely know the man." came the muffled response from behind Alice's hands "I was jacked up on caffeine and just trying to be nice!"_

_"Well," Abigail barely looked up from the document she was typing "you've got a choice of two options."_

_Alice groaned "I hate your ultimatums," she grumbled "I never want to do either of them."_

_"Either you can pretend that you meant to ask him on a date and use him as a rebound shag which will end up being terribly awkward and almost certainly require you to find a new lodger."_

_"Or...?"_

_Abigail shrugged "You can stop being such a paranoid lunatic."_

_Alice peeked at Abigail through her fingers "Do you really think I'm being paranoid?"_

_"There aren't enough ways to say yes to that." Abigail glanced at the clock "Don't you have students?"_

_Alice pouted and slid off of the chair "Will you at least come tonight? I think we've only sold about ten tickets and four of those are Blake's family. You could bring Markie."Markie was Abigail's long-suffering husband._

_Abigail sniffed "I would rather shower with a bear."_

_"But you'll be there, right?"_

Present Tense

"Al, any chance you could pay a-fucking-ttention? I asked if that was him." Teddy gave her shoulder a shove and gestured toward the bar. Alice turned to see George hovering nervously by the bar and felt her stomach clench. Maybe he did think she had asked him on a date. Warily, she raised a hand to wave at him. Catching her gaze, George returned the wave. He looked completely lost standing there by himself – in fairness, the bar was nearly empty anyway (that was the last time they let Blake book Saving Carla a gig), but Alice felt like even if the place had been packed, George would still have that air of isolation and loneliness about him. He sipped his pint and she almost smiled as he grimaced at the taste of it. Not an Ale man then.

"You live with that guy?" Daniel had appeared at her side without making a sound and Alice tried not to be distracted by how good he smelled, how close he was standing to her or that the way he stared at her intently, almost appraisingly, sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded, feeling that familiar blush make its way up her neck. Daniel glanced across the bar at George and raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Hey'. Alice felt almost certain she watched a shadow pass over the redhead's features. Daniel placed a hand on her lower back briefly before moving away to sound-check his guitar and her heart sank as George's stony gaze followed the bass player across the room.

"Alice Clark, you little minx." Teddy leered at her "The bass player and your lodger? London should be terrified now that you're single."

"Shut up," Alice leaned across and pinched Teddy hard "Nothing's going on with either of them!"

Teddy grinned, rubbing his arm where she'd pinched it "Listen, I don't care what you do – but if Daniel leaves, you're the one auditioning for a new bass player. And as for your lodger," Alice cast a terrified glance over at George and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he had now been cajoled into conversation with Abigail (for all her pretence of being the world's hardest bitch, she could always be relied upon to spot the loneliest looking person at a party and befriend them) "He's definitely a dishy one so I can't say I blame you, but I never thought you'd have a thing for redheads."

"I don't." Alice hissed, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one could hear them. Teddy smirked and went back to setting up his mike stand "Whatever you say."

X

Alice punched the air in time to the final beats of the last song in their set as the crowd erupted into applause. The turnout had been pretty good after all and Alice allowed the feeling of euphoria to flow through her veins as the final few chords danced behind her eyelids. For the last hour and a half, she had been a slave to her senses and loved every second of it. She felt reckless; she felt invincible.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand as the houselights were brought back up, she cast an eye around the bar for familiar faces, her vision still swimming a little. She saw a flash of red in her peripheral vision and squinted to see George standing off to the side of the stage. Something was different though; he was grinning. His face was practically alight with glee and he waved jovially at Alice before melting back into the crowd, obscured by a gaggle of girls who wanted to bat their eyelashes at Daniel. Alice frowned – she didn't remember what George had been wearing when he had arrived at the bar, but it certainly hadn't been a pea green waistcoat and yellow shirt. She was drawn from her reverie as Teddy slung a sweaty arm around her neck. “Welcome back to the land of the living Al! Have you missed this?"

Eventually Alice managed to get away from the stage and find Abigail sat at the bar, somehow managing to making drinking a beer look ironic and cool "Thanks for coming," she squeezed her friend's arm "And for talking to George." Abigail shrugged disinterestedly "No problem. I thought I'd scared him actually – he left before you guys even started." Alice frowned. “He left?"

"He said he had another appointment," Abigail raised an eyebrow "I thought you didn't want him to think it was a date?"

"It's not that..." Alice murmured, confused "I just – I thought I saw him..."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be thinking about my lodger right now." Abigail nodded back toward the stage. Alice turned to see Daniel watching her over Blake's shoulder, his gaze smouldering. She felt her legs turn to jelly and heard Abigail's voice in her ear "I demand that you go and do disgusting things to that man."

X


	7. Dial

George sat on the end of the bed, staring at the floo powder in his hands. He couldn't explain why, when he had been stood in the bar watching Alice's band setting up their instruments he had suddenly and desperately wanted to speak with someone, anyone from home. Alice's friend from work had tried to keep a friendly conversation going but he had been completely distracted as he had watched his landlady move about the stage.

One of the blokes in the band had been a bit… off. There had been something familiar about him, something George hadn't been able to put his finger on. Not something good, though. George knew that there had been rumours within the ministry that some of Voldemort's followers had escaped following the second war and were living as muggles instead of answering for their crimes. So far, nothing had been proven but despite the war being over for years, it was still early days when it came to exposing how deep the Dark Lord's network ran. In the bar, he had watched furtively as the bloke strolled arrogantly around the stage, occasionally stopping to talk to Alice and the rest of the band. When Alice wasn't looking he would glance over at George and smirk. Something about the way he kept finding ways to touch her made him desperately uncomfortable. In the end he had made his excuses to Alice's friend and left.

And now he sat, wanting to speak with someone but unsure what to say, part of him wanting simply to hear a voice from home. Whose voice, though? When the one voice he would give anything to hear wasn't there anymore.

Part of him wanted to resist using any magic. He had done well so far; barely missing it. Everyday tasks were becoming simpler and he had begun to convince himself that living without magic for the rest of his life wouldn't be so hard. Harry and Hermione and the other muggleborns at Hogwarts had lived for years without it.

_Hermione._

George looked towards his trunk. Hadn't she given him something he could use to contact her the muggle way? What had she called it? A mobile or something? He moved to kneel in front of the trunk and began to rummage through it, eventually finding the little black box his soon to be sister-in-law had gifted him when Alice had agreed to him lodging with her. "You can use this to contact me at any time," she had said, giving him a brief lesson on the device's various functions "I mean it George; if you ever need me then you only need to call."

George fumbled with the machine, which felt heavy and alien in his hands. He wondered if Alice had one of these – he couldn't see what good it would be. he fiddled around with it and eventually, the screen said 'Calling Hermione Granger' and from it he could hear a faint chirruping follow by a miniscule voice "Hello?"

"Hermione?" George stared at the phone in his hand "Are you there?"

"George, I can barely hear you – hold the mobile closer to your ear!"

George held the machine tenderly to his good ear "Like this?"

"That's better," Hermione's voice sounded closer now "Are you alright?"

"Aside from feeling completely ridiculous using this contraption, yes." George could almost hear his friend's wry smile. "You get used to it. I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Sorry. This is all still quite new for me. How is everyone?"

Hermione sighed "About as well as usual. Although...” she paused, and her voice became gentler "Your mother came through on the Floo tonight because your hand moved."

George's stomach clenched as he thought of the clock above the kitchen hearth in the Burrow's kitchen. Ever since Fred died, George's hand had stayed without fail on 'Lost' "Where did it move to?"

"Apparently it didn't actually go anywhere, but it shook and creaked a bit. I'm not sure where she thought it was going to go." Hermione didn't need to say where his mother had been worried his hand would go. They were both silent for a moment; George could hear the phone fizzing in his ear. Finally Hermione spoke "How are you finding living with Alice?"

"It's... fine, I suppose. We don't see much of each other. She invited to me go and see her singing tonight." George didn't mention that he had left after before they had even started their set because Alice's bandmate had kept staring at him from across the room and in the end George had been so disquieted by it that he couldn't stay. He had seemed so familiar... where had George seen him before? There was something niggling at the back of his mind that he couldn't place.

"That's wonderful! Did you have a good time?" Hermione sounded pleased for him "Is her band any good?"

"Quite good I think." George lied "Alice has a nice voice."

"She always did, even when we were very young. I'm glad she didn't stop just because her mother didn't like it. Her sister used to tease her terribly. You wouldn't think a six year old could be so spiteful."

George tried to piece together in his mind what could possibly make someone want their child to stop singing (unless of course they were really bloody awful). Jealousy, maybe? "I don't think her sister is much nicer now, although she seems to have moved on from teasing and decided just to go straight to taking her boyfriend."

"From what I remember of Sarah, that doesn't surprise me." Hermione said grimly "Poor Alice; no wonder she looked so wrung out when I went to meet her about your room."

They chatted idly for a little longer before George heard a voice in the background "Is that Ron?"

"Yes, do you want to speak with him? Ron, George is on the phone… Because he's living in muggle London, that's why... I think the phone probably _is_ as good as the Floo network, Ronald... Because at least with a phone you don't have to rely on finding a bloody great fireplace just so you can speak with-" an impatient sigh "Look, do you want to speak to your brother or not?"

Eventually, after some shuffling and cursing – mainly from Hermione, surprisingly – George felt his heart ache at the sound of his youngest brother's voice "George?"

"Ron?"

"This is bloody weird."

"Too right."

"How are you?" George winced; how was he supposed to answer that? 'I know you're being kind, but I dream nightly about standing over my twin's dead body and when I am awake I can't look in a mirror without being reminded of how there's only half of me left. Oh, and if you stand to my left I can't hear you, thanks for asking.'

George didn't say that. Instead he said "I'm fine. How are the wedding plans?"

Ron's voice lowered "I heard Mum and Ginny talking about Doves yesterday."

George raised an eyebrow "That sounds... reserved."

"George, you have to help me." Ron's voice was low and urgent "They're unstoppable!"

"What does Hermione think of all of this?"

"She thinks it's funny! She keeps telling me not to worry; that all ideas start big and crazy and eventually they boil away to something more manageable."

"Well, on the one hand Hermione is never wrong..." George rested his back against the end of his bed and ran his free hand over the carpet, feeling the rough fibres beneath his fingers. There was something comforting about having your nearest and dearest's voice right next to your ear. It was almost more intimate that looking right into their face as they stared up at you from the fire.

"And on the other hand?"

"There's Mum and Ginny."

Ron groaned.


	8. Driscoll

George was stood blearily in the kitchen trying to decipher the fundamental aspects of poaching eggs without the use of magic (virtually impossible, to his mind) when he heard a commotion seemingly coming from the garden below. George remembered Alice's words to him when he moved in. "It belongs to the ground floor flat but that's been empty for donkey's years," she had explained when he had commented on the difference between the overgrown wilderness that backed onto their flat and the neat, prettily kept postage stamp sized squares of land attached to the other houses in the row "The landlord lives up north and has a longstanding feud with the people on either side who keep complaining that he should pay for a gardener because it devalues their property so of course he refuses just to annoy them. And the result is that one day we'll wake up and the flat will be like _Jumanji_." George hadn't understood what she had meant by that, but had given her a small laugh anyway. Probably some muggle reference.

In the weeks that George had been living in the flat, there had been no signs of life from the floor below, but now he could hear a woman's voice calling out to someone. The voice seemed to be moving around at the back of the house. He heard the back door open and the voice became clearer, floating up and through the open kitchen window "Driscoll! Where are you?"

George leaned over the sink to get a better view out of the window. Craning his neck, he peered down into the garden where he could see the top of a grey head, the hair loftily piled into a bun and a pair of gold rimmed spectacles sitting atop it. The woman called out to Driscoll again and this time was met with a whimper from deep within the weeds. George heard the woman sigh. "Well I can't very well come in there and get you, can I?" Another whimper "Well you should have thought of that before you went in there!"

George smiled in spite of himself and leaned a little further out of the window "Do you need help?"

The bun turned toward him and George was met with a sunny smile and bright blue eyeshadow "Young man that is _very_ decent of you, but I'm not sure Driscoll is ready to admit defeat yet and bitter experience has taught me not to besmirch his honour without asking him first." She turned back to the mass of weeds, grass and wild shrubbery "Are you ready to be rescued, baggage?"

A high pitched whine that George took to be in the affirmative emanated from somewhere near the back of the garden. The bun once again turned to face back up to George "I think the lesson has been learnt."

X

"Well now," Said the bun, whose name he learnt was Arlene Appleby after he had retrieved her dog by crawling on his stomach through ten feet of untended plant-life to find him with a paw caught under a gnarled tree root "I should be delighted to reward you with a cup of tea and a slice of cake if you are interested. Driscoll would never forgive me if I didn't show you his gratitude."

Driscoll, an over large cross-breed, all gangly limbs and soulful eyes and currently cowering in George's arms, gave an enthusiastic bark. Arlene rolled her eyes fondly at the dog. "The amount of debts I repay on your behalf, baggage."

And so that was how George Weasley, covered in mud and grass stains came to be sitting in the sunny living room facing out onto the back garden, petting Driscoll who now seemed content to sit nowhere but directly in his lap while Arlene bustled in with a tray of tea and a rather delicious looking cake. “Do give him a shove if your legs lose their feeling won't you? I often wonder if he thinks he's a much smaller dog. Must be the poodle part of him."

George smiled politely and took the cup of tea she offered "How long have you been living here Mrs Appleby? I thought this flat was empty." A cursory look around while she had been in the kitchen hadn't given him any clues – the flat was a jumble of knick-knacks and odd-and-ends along with the usual detritus of a life so judging by the state of the place it was possible that she had only just moved in, but George suspected that any homestead belonging to the little old woman currently plying him with cake would look like this regardless of how long she had been occupying it.

"Call me Arlene, dear. I took this place sight unseen a few months ago when I was living abroad," Arlene lowered herself heavily into the chair opposite George with an 'Oof!' "Driscoll and I only really began living here in the last week." She sighed and gestured toward the garden "It's a shame really – had I known the state it was in I would have arranged for a gardener before moving. You're the first person I've met, although I've seen your wife coming and going – the pretty little fair-haired girl?"

"That's Alice; she's my landlady, not my wife." George felt his cheeks redden slightly. Arlene smiled airily "Oh. Shame. Have you been living here long?"

"A few months. I moved from Devon to the city to... try something different."

Arlene nodded "A change is as good as a rest, I suppose. Do you work in the city?"

"I have – had a business with my brother," George swallowed hard "What I mean is, I still have it but... not with... he died. Now it's just me." _And alone, I am not enough. And it is only a matter of time before everyone discovers that._

"My dear, I am sorry." Arlene gave him a sympathetic glance "There is no loss quite so profound as that."

George nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Driscoll, noticing a lull in the petting, nudged George's hand with his nose and George smiled in spite of the heavy feeling in his chest. "I have someone looking after the business for me," He explained, wondering if his voice had always sounded that rough "I've decided to step back for a while." He neglected to mention that by moving from Devon to London he had geographically brought himself closer to the shop than he had been for years.

"An excellent decision, if you ask me." Arlene sipped her tea and George noticed that she wore earrings shaped like radishes "Sometimes all one requires is a little more time."

X

Alice pushed open the front door to the building and paused in the downstairs hallway. There was the gentle tinkle of music coming from the ground floor flat and she thought she could hear a voices and a dog pattering about inside. It was about time someone rented the place out.

Her flat was empty. Alice wondered idly if George had noticed her failure to come home the night before, then wondered why it even mattered to her. She shifted uncomfortably in her dirty clothes and decided to make straight for the shower, only pausing briefly before stepping under the stream of hot water to inhale the scent of Daniel on her skin one last time – aftershave and expensive cigarettes. He had made her a cup of coffee before she had left his flat and the memory of the taste mingling with his mouth as he had kissed her the night before made her shiver. He made his own syrup to put in the coffee and Alice was still trying to work out the delicious flavor now – Ginger, maybe? And something so familiar but hard to identify...

Daniel had given her a little bottle to put in her coffee 'So I can wake you up every morning' (normally Alice would have rolled her eyes at a terrible line like this but she had giggled like a schoolgirl). As the water hit her skin, she replayed the events of the previous night in her head.

After she'd said goodbye to Abigail, she had finished helping the band pack up and was just about to make her way out into the cold night herself when Daniel had caught her arm and handed her a shot of something lethal-looking. “Cheers." He picked up one for himself and clinked it against hers and then raising it to his lips, his eyes burning into her and his free hand still on her arm.

Alice did her best to look sexy and rock n' roll, throwing her head back with the shot and trying not to shiver as she felt the alcohol invade her senses, loosening her up. Daniel took the empty glass from her and placed it on the bar "Heading out for a drink?"

Alice's arm tingled where he was touching her and she swallowed hard, trying to act casual "Where are we all going?"

Daniel leaned in closer "I don't know about Blake and Teddy, but you and I are going somewhere I can buy you as many drinks as I need to so that I can kiss you."

Alice felt her breath hitch in her throat and she stared at him, eyes wide, trying to figure out if she had heard him correctly. Daniel smirked at her "That OK with you?" he ran a finger down the inside of her arm where he still had hold of her. Alice nodded, suppressing a shiver. She remembered Abigail's command and feeling suddenly more cavalier than she had ever felt, she leaned in and whispered "Perhaps we should skip drinks and go straight to your place."

After that, the night had been a blur. Alice knew she hadn't been drunk, but all she could remember clearly was the feeling of euphoria and the sense of finally being free. It was like Daniel represented everything she secretly wanted to be and have.

Alice changed into some sweats and padded through the flat to the kitchen to make another cup of coffee with that delicious syrup. Through the open kitchen window she could hear the voices from downstairs again - it sounded like they were out in the garden. Alice stood on her tiptoes to get a better look.

George was down there, clearing the huge amount of weeds, branches and brambles from the garden. He had shed his shirt and his muscles glistened as he worked, steam rising from his skin in the cold October air. A tiny older woman was stood off to the side holding a mug of tea for him and there was a dog scampering around his feet playfully and occasionally he would stop to pat it on the head or grin down at it, throwing a stick for it to chase. He really was quite a fine specimen physically, Alice mused "Not like Daniel obviously, but still extremely nice to look at..." She murmured to herself. Eventually, George looked up to the kitchen window and seeing her watching him, gave a wave and a small smile. The old lady turned as well and gave her friendly smile. Alice smiled and waved back, slightly embarrassed that she'd been caught staring. Turning away from the window swiftly, she quickly made her coffee and retreated to the living room where, for the first time in several weeks, she seated herself at the piano.

Playing and singing had always relaxed her; she had tried not to do it in front of Pete because he thought it made her act strangely and after he had left, she had been too miserable to bother. Caressing the keys gently, she could feel the weight of sadness lifting from her as she played the opening few bars of one of her favourite songs and smiled as the colours and shapes began to wash over her. She had needed to control it when she had been learning to play as it had been distracting, but once she knew a song by heart it was as though she could let her hands do all the work while the images took over.

_'When you're alone_  
And life is making you lonely  
You can always go  
Downtown 

_When you've got worries_  
All the noise and the hurry  
Seems to help I know  
Downtown...' 

As she sang, Alice caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye. George must have come in from the garden. She stopped playing briefly and turned to say hello, frowning when she realised she was still alone. Shaking her head slightly as though to clear it, she began to play once more.

_'Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city_  
Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty  
How can you lose?  
The lights so much brighter there  
You can forget all your troubles  
Forget all your cares' 

There it was again, that flash of red hair, the feeling of someone being in the room with her. Alice was only vaguely perturbed; it was unusual for her to see people when she sang but not completely out of the ordinary. When she was fourteen, she had been singing a solo in her school's Christmas concert and she had been sure that one of the portraits in the school hall – one with several couples dancing at a ball - had been waltzing along to it.

_'Don't hang around and let your problems surround you_  
There are movie shows  
Downtown  
Maybe you know some little places to go to  
where they never close  
Downtown' 

Why was her mind showing her George when she sang? Alice couldn't help but be vaguely amused as she imagined her lodger twirling around the room to the music and then flopping down next to her on the piano bench grinning widely at her. She knew he couldn't possibly be real because he made no sound when he moved but it was uncanny how accurate her mind's eye was making him out to be. He looked a little younger and a lot happier admittedly, but there was no mistaking him.

_'And you may find somebody kind to help and understand you_  
Someone who is just like you  
And needs a gentle hand to  
Guide them along..." 

George had disappeared from her side at the piano and Alice played the last few bars, smiling to herself as the colours faded out along with the music. She took a sip of her coffee and sat in silence, bathing in the afterglow of the sensory experience.

"That was marvellous." Alice gasped and sprang up from the piano stool at the sound of the voice. Had George been in the room after all? Where was he? She frantically scanned the room, unable to focus on anything in her fright. Finally, her gaze came to rest on the redheaded man on top of her bookcase, lounging there as if it were the most natural resting place in the world. He was wearing a purple fedora, matching pointed shoes a huge grin.

"George!" She exploded breathlessly "How did you – when did you – What the fuck are you doing up there? Get down!"

"Being serenaded by your lovely self, what else?" George sat up and hopped to the ground, landing silently like a cat. He took off the fedora and bowed deeply, at which point Alice noticed, her stomach turning to ice, that the man standing in front of her still had both ears.

Alice screamed.


	9. Deal

It was more a hoarse bark than a scream, to be truthful. Alice wheezed as she (only partially successfully) choked back a lungful of air. The UnGeorge regarded her with a level of amusement, his arms crossed as though surveying his handiwork.

"You know, I have to say as my first proper victim you've been outstanding. I've never seen that shade of purple outside of Pygmy Puff mating season."

Victim? What did he mean by that? Had she ended up inviting a killer into her home after all? Alice squinted through watering eyes at the man who looked exactly like her lodger but patently _wasn't_ , opening and closing her mouth like a fish, trying desperately to remember where Pete kept that stupid old cricket bat that he hadn't taken with him when he moved out. The UnGeorge simply stood grinning at her. In the end, she simply croaked "... Pygmy Puffs?"

UnGeorge nodded "Yes. They're quite a charming shade most of the year, but something about being in heat turns them the colour of what I now know is a frightened woman choking." He smiled winningly again "Thanks for not disappointing me."

"You're... welcome?" Alice replied, feeling more and more confused every time UnGeorge opened his mouth. She weighed up her options and in the end decided to ask his opinion "I'm still not sure whether to call the police."

"You're not sure whether to call the police and tell them there's a strange man in your home wearing an excellent hat who attempted to scare you?"

"You look just like my lodger..." Alice attempted weakly, moving to sit on the piano stool. UnGeorge stayed where he was in the middle of the carpet.

"The reason you don't want to call the police is because I look like your lodger and not because of the hat? I find that very hard to believe - this hat is terribly persuasive."

"Forget the hat," Alice snapped irritably "The reason I don't want to call the police is because you haven't yet attempted to murder me and for all I know George let you in which means you didn't even break and enter so all you might be guilty of is having a cruel sense of humour."

"How dare you; my sense of humour is impeccable and not remotely cruel… unless you're a Slytherin. Oh, and a tip that will serve you well in future: it may be best not to wait until a stranger in your flat tries to murder you before calling the police. With the exception of me, of course. I'm quite safe."

Alice reached up to rub her temples "Who are you?" And then, as an afterthought "And what the hell is a Slytherin?"

UnGeorge spread his arms wide and bowed once again "I'm the better-looking twin."

"You can't be his twin, you're at least a few years younger than him. Besides, that's in pretty poor taste, seeing as George lost his twin." Alice sniffed disapprovingly at UnGeorge's inappropriate joke "So what are you then, one of his younger brothers?"

The redhead raised a sardonic eyebrow " _Lost_? Is that how us poor dead sods get referred to these days? Like we've been misplaced along with the sock that never has a match? My family _lost_ me, like a set of keys or a shopping list?"

"If you think for one minute I'm going to buy that you're dead then you've got another- _what the fuck did you just do?_ " Alice gaped as UnGeorge walked, quite casually, _through_ her sofa. It was as though he were made of air. UnGeorge held his arms out as if this action alone might demonstrate his point.

"Still don't believe I'm dead?"

"I'd sooner believe that I'd gone fucking bonkers than believe you're the ghost of my lodger's dead twin." Alice covered her face with her hands "That's it isn't it? I've finally lost my shit, haven't I?"

"Why are you asking me if you think I'm a hallucination? And perhaps you'd like to call me Fred - that is, if 'ghost of lodger's dead twin' seems like a bit of a mouthful to you."

"When I open my eyes, you'd better be gone."

"Listen love, I didn't do as I was told when I was alive. What in Merlin's name makes you think I'd start doing it just because you'd like to kid yourself that you're having a breakdown?"

Alice's hands slid from her face "If you're a ghost, then how come you look solid? I thought ghosts were supposed to be all silvery and see-through and made of dry ice."

"Dry-what? Most ghosts are quite see-through… eventually. As it happens, I'm still fairly new for a ghost," Fred The Ghost admitted, glancing down at himself "It turns out you only get to look like a proper ghost when you've been around for a bit."

Alice shook her head disbelievingly "I can't believe I'm actually having this conversation."

"Why not? Surely a paranormal spirit in one's home is preferable to adult-onset insanity?" Fred The Ghost had taken to wandering around Alice's living room, looking at her things.

"Don't be so sure." Alice said grimly. A thought struck her "If you're George's brother, then why are you talking to me?"

"Now _that_ ," Fred The Ghost wheeled around to look at her once more, grinning "Is an excellent question. Not one that I actually know the answer to, mind you. But an excellent question nonetheless."

Alice frowned "What do you mean?"

"Ghosts have a purpose – some reason they can't be at peace. You could call it unfinished business, but seeing as I never had the pleasure of your acquaintance when I was breathing I suspect our business has yet to start." He paused and looked at her "I don't suppose you're looking to get into the joke trade?"

Alice shook her head "Sorry."

Fred The Ghost's face fell "Shame. That would have been straightforward. I'm not really sure what help I'm qualified to offer someone who reads books like…" he cocked his head to one side in order to squint at her book titles "'Lone Wolf Terrorism and Social Media' or 'Hate Speech and the Radicalisation Process'. What on earth do you do for work? Suck the joy out of rooms?" He stared around the room "Is my brother… OK? I mean – does he… this just… doesn't seem like the sort of place he would live."

"I've only known him a few weeks," Alice admitted "But the friend who put him in touch with me when I advertised for a lodger… she didn't seem to think he was doing so well."

"Was this friend by any chance a curly-haired bookish creature called Hermione who knows everything about everything?" Alice nodded and Fred The Ghost's shoulders slumped "Well if she's worried then things must be seriously wrong."

"I'm sorry." Alice murmured quietly, unsure what else to say. Fred The Ghost had seemingly deflated before her eyes "He's only downstairs," she offered, feeling wholly ridiculous; this was easily the most bizarre thing to ever happen to her "I could… get him for you if you like?" In spite of her growing confusion, she was surprised to see him look troubled at her suggestion "Unless you don't want to see him? Would he even be able to see you?"

Fred The Ghost smiled a little thinly "I want to see him more than anything, but… I'm afraid it will hurt him."

Alice felt a twinge of sympathy before reminding herself that there was still a good chance that she was talking to a figment of her imagination. Something struck her and she frowned slightly "Does that mean you could have appeared to him before now but chose not to?"

Fred The Ghost didn't say anything but the look in his eyes told Alice everything she needed to know "Why, though? Surely he's the one person who would need to see you the most?"

"It's not that simple," Fred The Ghost sighed wearily "If he realises that I'm not completely… gone, he'll want to-" He cut himself short, running a hand through his hair "Just trust me when I say it will do him more harm than good, alright? You can't tell him you've seen me."

"Are you kidding me?" Alice crossed her arms and glared at him "I don't know whether to be more annoyed that I've got a ghost in my flat when up until about fifteen minutes ago I didn't believe in ghosts, or that said ghost is expecting me to be his enabler by neglecting to mention to George that his dead twin brother is haunting my flat and not providing any reasonable explanation as to why."

"You've got a ghost in your flat who happens to be the dead twin of your current lodger who you barely know and you're surprised because he's making a nonsensical demand?" Fred The Ghost retorted, grinning mischievously.

Alice rolled her eyes "OK, Fred The Ghost. I'll make a deal with you. I won't tell George about you if you figure out what this unfinished business is and take care of it as soon as possible. Is that fair?"

Fred The Ghost nodded, still smiling "Deal." He stuck out his hand and Alice instinctively went to take it, recoiling when her hand went straight through his. It felt like cold, damp air. She looked up to see him smirking at her.

"Gotcha."

X


	10. Disinfect

Alice glared at redhead, shaking her hand to try and rid it of the chill "Were you by any chance a complete knobhead when you were alive, Fred The Ghost?"

Fred The Ghost shrugged "I preferred to think of George and I as handsome court jesters, but it very much depends who you ask. Also, do you think you could find it in you to just call me Fred? Fred The Ghost doesn't have an especially attractive ring to it."

" _That's_ what's concerning you? That your moniker doesn't have the right cadence?"

Fred winked at her "Names are important, Miss Clark."

Out of habit, Alice drew herself up imperiously "Actually, it's Dr Clark."

"See? Important. I'll be seeing you soon." Alice had expected him to disappear in a manner befitting a ghost (although in fairness most of her reference points for knowing how a ghost exits a room came from Scooby-Doo), but instead he simply strolled out of the living room, seemingly heading for the front door. After a moment or two, curiosity got the better of her and she crept over to stick her head out into the hallway. It was empty.

What the hell just happened?

Fighting her desire to march to the nearest hospital and demand a CT scan, she made another coffee to replace her cold one and wandered about the flat restlessly, unable to settle. Eventually, frustrated and still in minor shock, she hurled several cushions from the sofa onto the floor and reclined onto them, staring at the ceiling.

She could write this off as part of her disorder. Just put it to the back of her mind and hope Fred never made an appearance again. It would be a hell of a leap seeing as the music had long stopped playing by the time Fred had even spoken to her, added to the fact that although she had been known to see people before, they had never actually engaged in a full blown conversation with her. However, Alice found herself unnerved enough by the previous half hour's events that she was willing to stretch her rationalisations into new territories. What was it Fred had said? Kid herself that she was having a breakdown?

Alice sipped her coffee and smiled as a memory of the night before with Daniel surfaced unbidden and interrupted her ruminations. The thought proved near intoxicating and Alice felt her train of thought slipping away from her current predicament to when she might see him again. He didn't own a mobile phone, which for an adult male in the twenty-first century seemed rebellious and aloof. He didn't want to be part of the system, Alice thought with a shiver. Boy, was she going off the deep end on this one.

X

George trudged up the stairs, his muscles aching. He was exhausted, filthy and his arms were covered in tiny cuts, but he felt strangely elated - more so than he had for a while. The work had been heavy, but the space had been less difficult to clear than the gnome-infested hell adjacent to the Burrow. At least he knew that he was unlikely to come across a particularly toothy Jarvey in Arlene's garden. The older lady had been grateful, plying him with more tea and cake than he had eaten for months insisting that he was far too thin for her liking.

Eventually, he had managed to excuse himself by promising to visit again soon, ruffled Driscoll's fur and left Arlene's flat loaded with the cake that she had insisted he take with him. Pausing in the hallway, he frowned. He had expected to hear music coming from the flat he shared with Alice and was vaguely perturbed (and strangely disappointed) to hear only silence as he broached the landing. He had been shifting branches outside when the faint sounds of a piano and a clear, soulful voice floating from the upstairs flat had reached him, carried on the chilly October air. Arlene had cocked her head, hearing it as well. “What a beautiful sound. Is your landlady a professional musician?" George had made some vague response about her working at a university, his attention almost fully diverted by the music. Alice was singing a muggle song that he didn't know, something about finding a busy, happy place where you couldn't be lonely or sad anymore. No prizes for guessing why that had spoken to him.

George let himself into the flat and made his way to the kitchen to find room for the cake. He almost didn't see Alice lying on her back on the living room floor, propped up by cushions and a languid, dreamy smile playing on her lips. George raised his free hand and gave her an awkward wave. “Hi."

Alice looked up with a smile before frowning at the state of him "Wow. You look like you've been busy." She pulled herself up and sat facing him, her legs crossed as she stared up at him from the floor. For some reason, George found the pose oddly endearing. “I met the new neighbour today," He explained "Her dog was trapped in the garden so after I got him out, I offered to clear it for her."

"That was kind of you. Is she nice?" Alice hopped to her feet and came over to inspect the cake. As she got closer, she caught sight of the multiple cuts littering George's arms and hands "Ouch. Are you sure one cake was enough? I'd have asked for at least two based on injuries alone."

"They're not too bad…" George tried, realising with a sinking feeling even as he said it that a healing charm was probably out of the question in his new magic-free existence. Alice reached out to prod a particularly sore cut and he flinched. She offered a sympathetic grimace "Sorry. These cuts are filthy. There's some TCP in the kitchen if you need it."

"Thanks." George tried to look as though he understood what TCP was. Alice followed him into the kitchen and began to hunt the cupboards. “Thanks for coming to the gig last night, by the way."

"Thanks for inviting me. Your band is very good." George lied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Alice smiled at him playfully "Abigail told me you didn't stay." She opened a cupboard and stood on her tiptoes, stretching up to retrieve a small glass bottle from a high shelf. She handed it to him and George stammered as he tried to explain. "I'm sorry, I just – I didn't-"

"George, it's fine. It's not everyone's scene. Plus, Abigail's great but if you've never met her before it's a bit like being run over by the Death Star." Alice brushed his arm briefly and with a touch that was feather light.

George gave her an embarrassed smile "It wasn't that," He said quietly, unsure why he felt it was important to be truthful with Alice – at least as truthful as he could be. He unscrewed the bottle, grimacing at the chemical scent as he brought it to his lips "It was the first time I'd been anywhere so busy and public since-" Alice's eyes widened and she grabbed for his wrist before he could drink. “What are you _doing_?"

George froze with the bottle next to his mouth "Am I not supposed to drink this?"

"Well that depends, are you planning on visiting casualty anytime soon?" Alice rolled her eyes and took the bottle from him "Boys are ridiculous." She grabbed a bowl and poured some of the liquid into it "What were you saying?"

George dipped his head, trying to control the furious blush that made his face burn "It's nothing."

X

"Were you singing earlier?" They were sat at the kitchen table and George, once again, had been forced to relinquish his shirt. Alice glanced up from where she was tending to George's cuts. Was it his imagination, or did she look a little bit nervous? "You heard that?"

George nodded "You're very good."

Alice smiled bashfully "Thank you." She went back to dabbing the stuff that George had nearly drunk on his cuts. It stung and the smell was unpleasant, but she was gentle in her ministrations.

"Have you always liked music?" Alice nodded "Ever since before I could remember. I think I sang before I talked."

"But you didn't want to play or sing professionally?"

Alice gave a shrug "My mother didn't want me to learn so I didn't start to play properly until I could afford my own lessons. I sang a little bit in groups and choirs when I was younger but she didn't really like that either. By the time I realised it wasn't about what made her happy I had found other ways to pay the bills and music has turned out to be this amazing hobby that never lets me down and never makes me feel wrong or unhappy."

"Your mother didn't like you singing?" George remembered how puzzled he had been when Hermione had said something similar when they had spoken the night before. He winced as Alice dabbed at a particularly deep cut and she sent him an apologetic glance. "Sorry. It wasn't that she didn't like the singing. She didn't like that I wasn't normal. She didn't like that I didn't react normally to music and sound." Seeing George's confused expression, she raised an eyebrow "Hermione didn't tell you?" George shook his head wordlessly and Alice frowned, trying to think of a way to explain.

"I have a condition called synaesthesia. It's a sort of… wiring issue, neurologically. My senses are misaligned. Put simply, I can see sounds."

George stared at her for a moment and Alice felt strangely exposed under his gaze. She avoided meeting his eyes, instead turning back to applying the TCP to his cuts. She didn't often tell people she didn't know that well about her condition and with the exception of Hermione, the people she had told had reacted as though it was a burdensome disease or a symptom of some deeper underlying unnaturalness. She took a deep breath and hurried on "It's not an illness or anything, I'm not sick. I just… see things differently sometimes."

"That… is incredible." Alice looked up in surprise to see George looking at her with open fascination "What's it like? To be able to _see_ music?"

Alice sat back in her chair and thought for a moment "It's… a bit like losing control. But in a good way. I feel like I'm wrapped up in the sound and so I'm stronger. I feel like nothing can touch me and that I'm way above everything else, like I'm-"

"-Flying." George finished for her softly. She had described exactly how had always felt whenever he had been on his broomstick on the Quidditch pitch. Alice nodded and they grinned at one another shyly before Alice went back to dabbing at George's cuts. They were silent for a moment before George spoke again. "Did you always know you were special?" he asked quietly.

Alice's gaze flitted up to meet George's once more and she gave a surprised grin in which he couldn't help but notice a trace of bitterness. He frowned "Did I say something wrong?"

She shook her head "Not at all, it's just… that's not a word that's been used to describe it before." She smiled at him and for the briefest of moments, George felt something spark inside of him, affording his cold soul the tiniest bit of warmth "No; I always thought I was just like everyone else until I made some offhand comment about Pink Floyd to my mother, who immediately marched me to several different doctors to be told that I wasn't dying but I also wasn't normal." Alice sniffed "You can imagine her horror."

"What about your father? What does he think?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Alice shrugged "He left before I was born."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to pry..."

"Honestly, it's fine..." Alice stood up and went to the sink to pour away the leftover TCP and George could sense that she wasn't comfortable continuing the conversation. He stood, feeling nervous again suddenly, unsure of what to do with his hands and feeling vulnerable without his shirt on. "Thank you… for doing this. And for not letting me drink that stuff." Alice turned back from the sink and gave him a bright smile that he didn't quite believe "You're welcome, George."

They stood looking at one another awkwardly for a moment. George wanted nothing more than to retreat to the safety of his room but a small, stubborn part of his brain was unwilling to leave matters as they were with Alice. If Fred were here, he would know the exact joke to make to ease the tension, something jovial and probably vaguely flirty. George had stopped counting how many times he had wished Fred were there in the early days when the instances had already numbered in their thousands.

But Fred wasn't here. And standing in front of him was a girl who had spent her entire life being made to feel wrong simply for existing. A girl who in spite of that, had decided that she would be herself anyway. A girl who was trying her best to be happy regardless of whether she felt she belonged or not.

"I meant what I said," He said quietly, staring at his feet "It is special, the way you see the world. And you're brave for not pretending that you're like everyone else. I was lucky; I grew up around people who saw being different as something to be embraced. But I know it's not like that for everyone."

Alice's features softened. The bright, false smile was replaced with something altogether warmer and more genuine "Thank you, George." She whispered. George returned her smile with a shy one of his own "You're welcome."


	11. Discovery

Alice sighed and rolled onto her stomach to see if that was any more comfortable. She had exhausted every trick she could think of to try and lull herself to sleep, but slumber was proving itself elusive. She shouldn't have had that second cup of coffee after George had retired to his room for the night, but the syrup Daniel had given her was so delicious that she suspected she was already forming an addiction to it. She had sat curled up on the sofa with a mug, inhaling deeply between sips as she tried to work out what the familiar scent was mingling with the aroma of ginger biscuits. She knew she had smelt it somewhere, but where?

It would help if her thoughts didn't keep drifting to the night before. Alice felt a grin creeping onto her face as she remembered his slow, lingering kisses. He had taken his time with her, his hands and mouth moving over her body in the same way he did everything – almost lazily, as though he had all the time in the world at his disposal to spend on her. Alice had never favoured that style of lovemaking in the past, but with Daniel it was as though she couldn't resist. She found his silence almost intoxicating, and the way he stared at her in an almost calculated, appraising way sent shivers down her spine.

Alice scrambled onto her back and huffed before kicking the covers off her legs and padding back through to the living room, leaving the door near closed so as not to disturb George if he was sleeping. Her gaze settling on the piano in the corner, she was briefly reminded of Fred and his appearance in her life that afternoon. Funny, it seemed longer ago than that. Alice eased herself down onto the piano bench and rested her hands on the keys, feeling their smooth surface beneath her fingers. She closed her eyes and thought about the fedora-wearing apparition and his words to her. Thoughts of Daniel and his ministrations continued to surface here and there but Alice tried to put them aside in order to ruminate on Fred's desire to keep the very fact of his existence (or would it be un-existence?) from his twin. George's sad eyes and shy smile that evening when he had told her that she was special appeared behind her eyelids and Alice allowed her heart to be warmed by it. Was Fred right? Would knowing about Fred hurt George more than help him? The thoughts whirled around her wired brain as she tried to unpick the bizarre mess she had found herself in.

Almost unconsciously, as if her body were working independently of her mind, she began to play a gentle waltzing melody, feeling the tension drain a little from her shoulders as the colours and shapes invaded her senses. This song always came to her in lavender and blue hues, like a summer twilight, washing over her like gentle ocean waves. She started by humming the tune, then singing along softly.

_'You know I've always been a dreamer_  
Spent my life runnin' round  
And it's so hard to change  
Can't seem to settle down  
But the dreams I've seen lately  
Keep on turnin' out  
And burnin' out  
And turnin' out the same…' 

X

George crept along the hallway toward the living room, drawn by the lilting melody. Despite being exhausted from the day's activities, he had been drifting in and out of a mostly restless sleep, his mind still dwelling on the feeling of unease he had experienced when he had set eyes on that arrogant git of a bassist in Alice's band the night before. For some reason, it had made him think of Seventh Year, before he and Fred had decided to check out of full-time education prematurely. After shoving Montague into that Vanishing Cabinet, they had been thrown into the detention that the twins thereafter referred to as the 'straw that broke the Hippgriff's back'. Umbridge had made other members of the Inquisitorial Squad stand over them while they wrote _I must learn to respect authority_ with that foul quill. Both twins were naturally predisposed to openly flout rules and regulations, but George his blood boil when faced with the level of authoritarianism being shown by Malfoy and his goons and knew that Fred had felt the same. Following the detention, they had barely needed to discuss their next move. George had never forgotten the fire that had been lit within them that day – the unquenchable desire to stare fascism in the face and laugh at it. To depose self-appointed superiors. To level the playing field by any and all means possible.

No, he had never forgotten that desire. But since Fred had died it had seemed so far from his grasp that he wondered if, like so many other parts of him, it would remain forever a memory. Before retreating into the muggle world, he had worked day and night to keep their dream alive, brainstorming new products for the shop and owling the designs to Lee. For the most part they were successful, but George knew they lacked something – some spark of originality. Everything he did without Fred felt half-finished.

Just like himself.

George paused at the living room door, tilting his good ear toward the music. He could still hear out of his destroyed one, but struggled a little with sounds that weren't nearby. Alice's voice, soulful and melodious, floated toward him.

_'You can spend all your time makin' money_  
You can spend all your love makin' time  
If it all fell to pieces tomorrow  
Would you still be mine?' 

A purplish light was leaking through the crack in the door. George wondered if Alice had one of those muggle devices filled with warm undulating wax his father had been fascinated with a few years before – a lava lamp, was it?

_'And when you're looking for your freedom_  
Nobody seems to care  
And you can't find the door  
Can't find it anywhere  
When there's nothing to believe in  
Still you're coming back  
You're running back  
You're coming back for more…' 

George gave the door a gentle push, staying quiet so as not to startle Alice. Her voice hypnotised him. Rich and complex, there was wisdom and hope mingling with the pain. As the door swung further open to reveal his landlady at the piano, George had to bite back an exclamation of surprise.

Alice was lost in the music, swaying gently as she played. The light that he had assumed came from a lamp was emanating from her very being, swirling around her in streaks of purple and hazy blue. They looked like a halo of waves crashing about her head. George could only stare as the song built and the colours began to spread from their immediate vicinity around Alice and make their way across the room toward him.

_'So put me on a highway_  
And show me a sign  
And take it to the limit on more time…' 

George reached out a hand to touch the streaks of colour staining the air – it was soft and cool against his palm, somehow oddly reminiscent of the music being played. This was some powerful magic. Powerful, _uncontrolled_ magic. George felt his stomach turn to ice as he realised that Alice had no clue that she was producing such an incredible spectacle – she thought it was all in her head. She was no muggle, but had absolutely zero idea of her magical abilities. He started into action as Alice began to wind the song down, slipping quickly from the living room and back along the corridor to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and leaning against it heavily.

The Ministry of Magic was very clear about the reporting of Obscurials – any witch or wizard who failed to do so faced a sentence in Azkaban. Obscurial sightings were rare these days and George had only seen grainy pictures from one in the USA in the 1920s. He knew the bare minimum about Obscurials, only really that they were formed by repressed magic inside a human being that had the potential to leak out and cause havoc. He had not been expecting the sheer beauty of what had met him in the living room. Were they always like this? George ran a hand over his face and tried to ignore the growing sense of frustration in his chest that had begun to take root when he had realised that despite all his best efforts, the world he had been trying to escape from had somehow pulled him back in.

What else could he do? He was bound by law to report Alice to the Ministry and even as the hardened rulebreaker that he was, George had never broken the law, and the prospect of a long stay in Azkaban didn't fill him with glee. But then, neither did the idea of what would happen if he reported it. He would be required to fill out long forms and attend hearings as a witness. Several people he'd gone to school with worked at the Ministry now, he would have to face them and see the pitying looks in their eyes, endure the sympathetic shoulder squeezes and the claims that they visited the store all the time. George felt his eyes sting and pressed the heels of his palms into them hard enough that he saw stars behind his eyelids.

And what about Alice? She would be dragged through investigation after investigation, tribunal after tribunal, prodded and interrogated about her family tree (which George already knew was sketchy at best) in order to decipher whether she had any magical lineage. That wasn't fair to her, George reasoned. She wasn't harming anybody. She wasn't exuding any destructive dark power. As far as he could tell, Alice was unwittingly channelling her power into the music she played. If he reported her to the Ministry, she would be dragged into the public eye of a world she had never even heard of. She would undoubtedly be traipsed through the department of Magical Sciences, experimented on and generally treated like a freak. A freak he knew she already felt she was. He couldn't do that to her, could he?

George collapsed heavily onto his bed and lay back staring at the ceiling, the song Alice had been playing ringing in his head. It had been so melancholy, so full of longing for escape. It was as close as he had seen anyone come to giving emotion tangible form. It sparked something deep within his subconscious, and he drifted off to sleep accompanied by visions of purple-blue waves crashing in a bottle.

X

George still hadn't come to a decision by the time he awoke the next morning. There was a mechanised bleating sound coming from somewhere in the flat. Glancing at his watch he was astonished to see he had slept for almost nine hours. Sitting up slowly and shaking his head groggily he heard the bleating stop, replaced by Alice's voice which was far too cheerful for that hour of the morning. At least it started out cheerful. George frowned as he heard his landlady's voice drop away to almost nothing.

He dressed slowly, waiting until he thought there was no chance of him running into Alice before leaving his room. Reaching the kitchen, he berated himself for his error in judgement as he rounded the corner and found Alice slumped at the table looking as though she might cry. In front of her on the table sat a plastic device with what looked like buttons on it. George guessed this was another version of the machine Hermione had given him. Alice was staring at it as though it had just bitten her.

George stalled in the doorway, unsure how to proceed. He regarded her closely for a moment "Are you… alright?"

Alice's eyes darted up to meet his and in them, George saw vulnerability and unshed tears "They're engaged."

"Who is?"

Alice sniffed "My sister and… Pete."

George's eyes widened "The one who…" He trailed off as Alice nodded, her eyes threatening to overspill. "Who left me after shagging her behind my back for months, yes."

"I'm so sorry." George sat down heavily across from her at the table before jumping up once more "Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee?" He paused "Something stronger?"

Alice frowned "It's not even midday."

George offered her a small smile "It's five o' clock somewhere." the urge to make her feel better, to focus on something instead of his own pain, was strong.

Alice returned his smile with a wobbly one of her own "Tea would be fine, thank you."

George set about boiling the kettle (something he hadn't done wrong for weeks now) and preparing the cups "Who… broke the news to you?"

"Mother. Who else?" Alice grimaced "She wanted to make sure I didn't cause a scene at the next family gathering when they announced it."

"Maybe she wanted you to be forewarned…?" George attempted, setting the mug of tea down in front of her. Alice rolled her eyes "I think if she cared about how I felt at all she would have had something to say when he left me, don't you?"

"Touché." They sat in silence for a moment, steam rising from the mugs in front of them. Finally, George spoke "Does she… treat you very badly?"

Alice sighed, curling her hands around her mug. Her fingers were long and slender, George noticed "Not badly. Just with… great indifference. I suppose I'm a reminder of the man who left her. I should feel sorry for her, really."

George shook his head "You shouldn't feel obliged to have sympathy for someone who makes you feel small."

"Good. Because mostly I'm just angry. Angry at her, angry at my sister, angry at Pete." Alice stood suddenly, her chair toppling over backwards. She began to pace around the kitchen "Who do they think they _are_?" She spat, her arms flailing dramatically "Telling me I can't cause a scene? Stealing my boyfriend? Shagging my sister behind my back and then having the nerve to _marry_ into my _family_?" George was afraid now. Not just because this was a side of Alice he had not yet seen, but because out of the corner of his eye, he had noticed several glasses sitting on the draining board that had begun, inexplicably, to vibrate. As Alice paced and ranted, he could see them shaking harder and harder. There was no doubt in his mind what was causing it.

He had to get this under control, but how? Alice was on a roll. George felt as though he finally understood what it had been like for his family to witness how he had fallen apart in the early days following Fred's death. Alice seemed oblivious to the glassware teetering ever closer to the edge of the worktop and continued to rave, all her hurt and rage spilling from her like acid. George didn't know what to do. In the end, he stood and moved toward her, hoping that if he somehow managed to get her to sit down once more, some of the magical energy might dissipate. He caught her by the shoulders and pulled her close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She resisted at first, shaking her head "I don't want a hug, George."

"It'll work better if you stop struggling."

Alice struggled a little longer before she finally relented, collapsing against his chest and allowing him to sway gently with her in his arms. They stood like that for a long moment. 

Alice could hear George's heart beating, strong and rhythmic in his chest. George resisted the urge to rest his chin on her head. It was only now that he was holding her that he realised how petite she really was. What could he possibly tell her? That she had every right to be angry, furious even, but that it would only lead to a dark place within her. A place in which he himself existed, with no real idea how to get out.

The sound of the doorbell saved either of them from having to break the silence. Alice stepped away, seemingly calmer now. She gave him a small smile "Um… I should get that."

George cleared his throat awkwardly "Of course. I... I hope you feel better." Alice gave him a small smile before hurrying from the kitchen. George leaned heavily against the counter and sighed, running a hand over his face. That had been too close for comfort. George inwardly cursed himself for not paying more attention in Binns' class. Obscurials were dangerous because they possessed unregulated magic, that was why the Ministry were so strict about any sightings being reported. George had never heard of an instance where an Obscurial's magic had been diverted into something constructive. He sighed again, noting with no small sense of irony that this was probably the first time he had ever actively wished to have his copy of _A History of Magic_ close to hand.

His train of thought was interrupted when Alice re-entered the kitchen, followed closely by that arrogant prat from her band. George immediately tensed, the sense of discomfort returning. Upon spotting him, the cocky git smirked at him. Alice said brightly "George, this is Daniel – he's the bassist for our band." She turned to Daniel, who surveyed her in a way that George felt was near predatory "George is my flatmate."

"Nice to meet you." George managed to make his voice sound genial, despite the tension in his jaw. Daniel raised his eyebrows fractionally by way of response "And you, man."

"I didn't know you were planning on dropping by today." Alice turned her smile toward Daniel and George tried to ignore the feeling this gave him. Daniel levelled another smouldering look at her "I wanted to see you." His tone was that of slight weariness, as though this should be obvious to her. George could see how women found such matter-of-factness attractive he supposed, but couldn't help but think that to an impartial observer, a lack of enthusiasm for the company of someone you had feelings for just looked like bad manners.

Alice however, did not seem to agree "Oh." she blushed prettily, all traces of her earlier unhappiness apparently forgotten.

"I thought we could go for a drink." George waited for her to rebuff him with the same excuse she had given him earlier, but was dismayed to see her nod enthusiastically. "That sounds like fun." She turned back to George "Will you join us?"

George revelled in the glare Daniel sent him over the top of Alice's head before shaking his head "No thanks," He lied "I have somewhere I have to be today."

X

He barely had time to search his trunk on the off-chance that his copy of _A History of Magic_ had made its way in amongst his possessions before a familiar crackling sound reached his ears from the living room. Leaving his things in a haphazard pile on the bedroom floor, George hurried in the direction of the sound, assuming it would be his mother, father or one of his siblings' faces in the fireplace waiting to talk to him. A cold bundle of nerves settled in his stomach. What had happened? They knew it wasn't safe to be Floo-ing into a muggle grate. This could only be an emergency.

The last person he expected to see was the Minister for Magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt's serious gaze stared out at him from the grate. "George," He said, his tone as calm yet commanding as it had always been "We need to talk."


	12. Denial

George blinked, trying to process what Kingsley had just told him "What do you mean I'm in danger?"

"I mean, I just had your mother apparate into my office to tell me that her kitchen clock told _her_ that you're in mortal peril." The Minister for Magic said patiently, and George had to suppress a smile at the mental image of an incensed Molly Weasley holding Kingsley by his lapels. King had always had a soft spot for his mother, allowing her to boss him about as though he was another of her adoptive brood. "I... don't know what to say."

"Neither did my secretary," Kingsley allowed himself a small smirk before becoming serious again "Truly George, are you alright? From what I understand your family timepiece is relatively... accurate."

George rocked back on his heels and sighed "Since I'm clearly not in any immediate peril, I'm assuming you're referring to the clock permanently referring to me as 'lost'?"

It was difficult to decipher facial expressions during Floo calls, but George thought he saw Kingsley's face soften a little "George, everyone is worried about you. I know how hard it must be-"

"I _know _everyone is worried, King. And it is hard. If you're going to tell me that applying for re-location isn't the answer then Hermione's already beaten you to it." George said, a touch of acid creeping into his voice.__

__"She's right," Kingsley said matter-of-factly "But it's your life. You have deal with your pain in the way you see fit. Your family and the rest of The Order just want to be sure you fully understand the implications of your decision. It was a smart move to try living as a muggle for a while first."_ _

__"It was Hermione's idea..." George admitted sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for being so defensive. Kingsley nodded._ _

__"She's a smart witch. She's already revolutionising her department."_ _

__George smiled fondly as he imagined his friend and comrade's take-no-prisoners attitude towards her work "I wouldn't expect anything less."_ _

__They were silent for a moment, the grate crackling in a way that George had always found comforting, before Kingsley spoke again "George, you know I have to ask or your mother will hex me from here to Timbuktu if she thinks I haven't checked on you properly - can you think of any reason you could be in danger where you are?"_ _

__George thought of Alice and what he had seen the night before, the incredible waves of colour in the air accompanying her beautiful voice. He thought about how angry she had been that morning and despite his concerns that she might bring the house down with it, how beautiful she herself had been then too. She had practically bristled with energy and life. He felt suddenly nervous - if the Weasley family clock had indicated that he had been in peril, did that mean Alice was more dangerous than he had originally anticipated?_ _

__Or was he reading too much into this? Was it possible that the glasses on the draining board had moved for some other reason? There was a machine in the kitchen for washing clothes directly underneath the draining board; George had seen the unnecessarily loud and aggressive way it tossed garments about. In the weeks since he had lived at the flat, he had gotten used to it, barely noticing when it was on. Could he be sure that it wasn't working that morning when Alice had been mid-rant?_ _

___'You're reaching, Georgie...'_ _ _

__George bit back bile as Fred's voice whispered at the back of his mind, his twin's teasing but fond timbre working over his nerves. He swallowed hard. Fred wasn't here, he told himself fiercely. Fred was dead. If he could hear his dead twin's voice in his head, then how could he be sure that he'd seen the night before was real?_ _

__"George?" Kingsley prodded gently "Did you hear what I asked?"_ _

__George swallowed again and shook his head "Uh, no. I mean... I can't think of anything." A thought struck him "Should I have a reason to be worried?"_ _

__Now it was Kingsley's turn to be silent for a moment. George leaned in closer to the fire "King?"_ _

__Kingsley spoke slowly, seeming to choose his words more carefully than usual "We are receiving patchy intelligence reports from relocated witches and wizards that indicate there may be some truth to the rumours about Death Eaters posing as muggles to avoid capture. So far only uncorroborated sightings and I have already sent Harry and your brother on two wild goose chases, but..."_ _

__"-But you think there could be something to the rumours." George finished for him, trying to act calmer than he felt "Who has been sighted?"_ _

__"George, you must remember that these reports are still unsubstantiated until one of our own actually claps eyes on them-"_ _

__"Kingsley, just tell me!"_ _

__Kingsley sighed "Yaxley, and… Rookwood."_ _

__George felt his blood run cold. His mind all of a sudden seemed to become full of thoughts and questions, all jostling to make their way out of his mouth first. Eventually and after some deliberation, he settled on "… I thought Rookwood was in Azkaban?"_ _

__"They both were."_ _

__George sprang to his feet and began to pace frantically in front of the grate "Forgive me if I sound foolish here, King," He knew how he sounded and didn't care "But don't you think you should have led with that little gem of information instead of 'Hi George, your mother's heirlooms seem to be on the fritz, how's life as a muggle? Oh and by the way, the man who killed your brother seems to have disappeared from the impenetrable fortress where we keep all of our criminally insane people!'?"_ _

__"George, calm down - " but it was no use; George was in full flow now, his mouth barely keeping up with the frantic pace of the wards launching out of them._ _

__"And more to the point, how the _bloody hell_ did they get out? Were they the only ones? Why didn't anyone tell me? How-"_ _

__"GEORGE!" Kingsley's voice boomed out of the grate and the sound took stunned George into silence "Sit. Down."_ _

__George collapsed heavily onto his knees in front of the hearth once more. Kingsley eyed him warily "The less you know while you're living as a muggle, the better. All I can tell you is that we don't know how they got out or even _why_. But they weren't the only ones. I have my best people working on this around the clock and I have reassembled The Order, but right now I have decided to keep news of the escape classified. The longer we can track them without them thinking we're onto them, the better chance we'll have."_ _

__George nodded dumbly, no longer trusting himself to speak. Kingsley gave him a kind look "George, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to see Rookwood and the others back in Azkaban as soon as possible."_ _

__X_ _

___George was screaming again, that awful howl that you get in dreams where it takes every ounce of your strength but no sound comes out. Before him lay the body of his twin, the remnants of his final smile still etched on his face. It was always the same. Whenever he dreamed about it, it was always the same. His family stood around him, not crying over Fred but screaming at him, their faces twisted in fury and disgust._ _ _

___"It's your fault he's dead!"_ _ _

___"Where were you?"_ _ _

___"You should have been protecting him!"_ _ _

___George felt as though their voices were searing his very flesh with their bile and hatred. One face that stood out amongst them, one face he would never forget, was his mother's. She didn't look like his mother anymore, but a snarling beacon of loathing. She raised a shaking finger and pointed it at him "It should have been you!"_ _ _

___Behind her, Augustus Rookwood hovered over Fred's body but the rest of his family had their backs to him. They couldn't see the man who murdered Fred rubbing his filthy hands with glee and contempt. George tried to shout, to run towards him, but his family converged on him still shouting. George felt them overwhelm him, pushing him to the floor. Rookwood finally disappeared from his line of sight, but not before giving him an evil smile._ _ _

__George sat bolt upright in bed with a garbled yell and gasping for air. After talking with Kingsley via the Floo, he had needed to escape to confines of the flat, deciding to go out for a walk. He ended up traversing most of central London on foot and by the time he got back in the early evening, Alice had also returned from her jaunt with Daniel. George had been distracted but relieved to notice that it seemed that the oily git wasn't there. Alice had smiled cheerily at him and offered him a cup of tea, but he had mumbled something incoherent, disappearing into his room where he had collapsed onto the bed and passed out._ _

__"George?" a gentle knock accompanied Alice's voice "Are you alright?"_ _

__George ran a hand over his face, grimacing as his palm came away slick with sweat. His heart still hammered in his chest and he couldn't seem to form words._ _

__"George? Can I come in?" At this, he frantically began to scan the room for anything magical that he may have carelessly left out in the open. It wasn't easy in the half-light, but eventually he was satisfied and choked out "Y-Yes."_ _

__Alice crept into the room, her eyes hooded with sleep but filled with concern. Her hair was mussed and she patted it self-consciously "I just wanted to make sure you were OK. It sounded like you were having a horrible nightmare."_ _

__"I - I was," George exhaled shakily, the remnants of the dream still clinging to him, the image of his family screaming that Fred's death had been his fault playing over and over again in his mind "I'm sorry if I woke you."_ _

__Alice waved a hand in a 'Pfshht' gesture, stifling a yawn with the other "Do you think you'll sleep again tonight?" George shook his head. Alice regarded him for a long moment before seemingly deciding something. She jerked her head towards his chest of drawers "Get dressed."_ _

__"Why?"_ _

__"You'll see."_ _


	13. Drinking

"What is it?" George eyed the drink Alice was proffering him "And why have you bought a tray of them?"

"You can't tell me you've never seen a Jager Bomb before." George shook his head and Alice stared at him in disbelief "What sort of army were you actually _in_?"

George gave her a small grin "We… mostly drank whiskey." After demanding that he got dressed and phoning for a taxi, Alice had disappeared into her room and re-emerged approximately three minutes later having swapped her own pyjamas for ripped jeans and a t-shirt. They were in a busy bar on a street that reminded George a little of Diagon Alley. Shops selling colourful wares and useless trinkets were open late into the night; street performers and buskers were parading up and down the pavement mingling amongst tourists and natives. It made him think of the song he had heard Alice singing a few days before. The small dancefloor on the other side of the bar was busy and the bustling and happy atmosphere was almost infectious.

Alice made a face "I always wanted to be a whiskey drinker but I can't stand the taste. How is it possible for a drink to taste exactly like what I imagine my mother's soul is made of?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, George laughed. Really laughed. It bubbled up from inside him unexpectedly and he almost put his hand to his mouth to catch it. The guilt followed almost immediately and he dug his nails into his palms to distract himself from the ragged feeling in his chest. Alice grinned softly at him from across the table in the booth where they were sitting "I thought I'd have to make you drink at least three of these before you did that."

"Me too." George's eyes fell to his hands which were resting on the table in front of him. Alice watched him for a moment, her lips pursed.

"You're allowed to laugh, you know." She said gently. George glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes "I don't feel like I am." He murmured. Alice offered him a sympathetic smile "Then I guess it's back to plan A."

George frowned "What was plan A?"

Alice shoved the Jager Bomb into his hand "Last one to pass out has to carry the other one home."

George watched as she knocked her drink back in one go and attempted to do the same, dribbling most of it down his chin. Alice threw him a paper napkin with a snigger "Guess we know which one of us is passing out, then."

X

"Where do you go during the day?" Alice blurted after their fourth Jager Bomb. George had learned quickly how not to spill the sickly-smelling liquid on himself and was matching her drink for drink. He must have looked surprised at her question, because she blushed and hurriedly said "It's not that I've been secretly watching what you do! It's just that – well it's just that-"

"-You've been secretly watching what I do?" George gave her a teasing look. Alice clamped her mouth shut and looked at him with the slightly glassy expression of the newly drunk. George wondered if he had the same look. The warmth of the drink was starting to spread to his limbs, loosening them. He relaxed back against the shiny material of the booth they were sat in "I don't go anywhere, really. I mostly just walk around the city thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Alice pushed another Jager Bomb toward him and after they had knocked it back, propped her head up on her hand and fixed him with an interested look. George sighed and nudged the empty glass back and forth on the table with the tip of his finger "Fred, mostly. The shop. If I should go back to it."

"You think it would be too difficult to be there without him?" Alice asked, passing the tray of now empty glasses to the barmaid who had appeared out of nowhere to collect them and requesting a pitcher of beer. George shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

"It's not just that," he admitted "It's coming up with new products. Everything I do without him feels… incomplete, somehow. We were always 'Fred and George'. Everyone knew we were a package deal. If I try to keep the shop going without him, what if I always feel like I'm living half a life?" the thoughts that had been plaguing him, keeping him awake when thoughts of Fred weren't keeping him awake were finally spilling out of him.

Alice poured him a beer from the pitcher that had arrived while he had been talking "So… you feel like you want to start a new life?"

"I want to feel whole again," George murmured "I want to stop waiting for him to finish my sentences. I want to stop expecting to see him when I turn a corner. I want to be in a place where I'm not constantly reminded of him…" He trailed off and Alice stared at him, her own beer paused halfway to her mouth. "But…?"

George exhaled heavily "But that feels like I'm betraying him. He never left me behind a day in our lives, and here I am wishing I could leave him behind and go to a place I know he'll never be. A place that I won't always think to look for him."

"Is that why you took the room in my flat? Because you knew he wouldn't be there?"

George nodded sadly. Alice tipped her head to the side and looked at him thoughtfully "And how's that working out for you?"

"How do you think?"

Alice offered him a small sympathetic smile and nudged the remaining two Jager bombs toward him "Maybe you should get to be the one who passes out."

George looked down at the foul-tasting drink and nudged one back over the table to Alice with a smirk "How about we carry each other?"

The look she gave him lasted barely a second or two, but in her eyes George saw a spark of surprise mixed with amusement, flattery and hope. It was as though she had never had someone offer her a shoulder to lean on before. George realised with a start that this was exactly the case. The look was gone before he could study it further, but George knew instinctively that he wanted to see it again. Alice picked up the Jager bomb and clinked the glass against his. “Deal."

They tossed back the shots and grimaced at each other as the liquid burnt their throats. Alice slammed the empty glass down on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was trying to decide whether or not to say something. Eventually, she took a deep breath and fixed him with a look. "George, I… I can't imagine what you are going through and I know it's not my place to say anything," she said gently "But grief is not something you can outrun. You could go to your shop or another continent or be here with me and ultimately it won't matter. Until you figure out how to stop being sad, your giant will go with you wherever you go." She was paraphrasing Emerson, but it seemed appropriate.

George tried to ignore the prickling behind his eyes "I think you underestimate the value of your company for getting rid of giants." He said quietly, gesturing around them in a weak attempt at a joke "I don't see any around here."

Alice shot him a small smile "Although my abilities do extend to repelling giants, I mean it, George. You can run as fast and as far as you like but you'll never rid yourself of it until you make your peace with it."

"Isn't it obvious that I'm trying to?" George's voice was so broken, so defeated "What else can I give over to it?"

Alice reached over and gave his hand a squeeze "Just time. Sometimes all it takes is more time."

George stared down at Alice's smaller hand covering his. It was soft but cool where she had been holding her beer. He thought about what he had seen when she had been singing at the piano the night before. How the magic flowed from her, her emotions seemingly manifesting themselves in a riot of colour and feeling. If only that could be bottled…

"I mean it, you know." He said quietly. Alice frowned a little "Mean what?" she withdrew her hand and George fought the strange urge to grab it back.

"Being... with you. In the flat, I mean," He felt his face begin to heat up "It has helped."

Alice gave him a radiant smile, which turned into a squeal of joy as a song she recognised came on "I _love_ this! It always looks like sunshine! Do you dance?" she was already halfway out of the booth.

"After all those drinks? _Definitely not_." George shook his head emphatically at Alice's outstretched hand. Alice shrugged, her shoulders already shimmying to the beat "Are you sure? The rhythm train is leaving the station…"

George grinned "You're not making the compelling case you think you are." As Alice made her way across the bar to dance among the heaving bodies, an idea suddenly struck him. Maybe he _did_ know a way to bottle the magic Alice produced when she sang.


	14. Draughts

"Wakey wakey Doctor Clark..." Alice cracked open one hungover eye to see Fred sitting cross legged at the end of her bed. Today, he was wearing a waistcoat so violently pink it hurt her eyes and made her head pound even more than it already did. She opened her mouth to speak but could only rasp brokenly. "I need coffee if we're going to be talking today. Lots of coffee. And Aspirin."

"Can't help you, I'm afraid." Fred wiggled his fingers "Ghost hands, you see. Not so good for carrying."

"Urgh..." Alice threw back the covers and rolled out of bed, trying to ignore the acrid taste in her mouth. She cast a glance at her watch, groaning when she saw that it was nearly ten AM "Stay here then. George might see you otherwise."

"He went out earlier. Poor bugger never could sleep off a hangover."

Alice fixed Fred with a stare "Are you telling me you've just been loitering at the end of my bed watching me sleep all morning?"

"Not _all_ morning. I also may have spent an hour teasing next door's cat because he seems like a haughty little git."

Alice thought on this for a moment before shrugging and shuffling toward the kitchen. Next door's cat _was_ a haughty little git.

X

"So, are you any closer to working out why I have to endure your spooky presence in my life?" Alice was tucked back up under the covers, an aspirin solution in her hand and a steaming mug of coffee complete with Daniel's special syrup in it on her nightstand. Fred had not moved from his position at the foot of her bed and Alice suspected that even in life he had probably failed to grasp the concept of personal boundaries. He was staring at the glass she was holding. "Why is it fizzing like that? I've never seen a draught do that before." He cocked his head to one side like Snow White listening to the animals "It's making a strange noise too."

Alice took a big gulp and grimaced at the chemical taste while he watched with interest "My mother always used to put ginger syrup in potions so we would take them. Maybe you could try that."

"Do you think you could at least _try_ and talk like a normal person? I feel like you're talking like a bemused Victorian on purpose to annoy me..." Alice swallowed the last of the solution, screwing up her face as she did so "Anyway, you haven't answered my question."

"I rather think you're the last person to judge what's normal given that I've just watched you ingest something that gives you a face like an adolescent Mandrake." Fred said mildly "What was the question again?"

Alice sighed irritably "Have you figured out why you're here yet?"

"Oh! Well, I thought about it but beyond the fact that you happen to be living with my brother, I fail to see any sort of connection between us..." Fred furrowed his brow, thinking hard "What school did you say you went to?"

"I didn't. Why would that matter?" Alice rubbed at her forehead frustratedly. Fred shrugged.

"Just brainstorming, trying to come up with a reason we could be connected in some way. Where did you go then, if not Hogwarts? You don't seem the Durmstrang type," Fred cast a glance around the bedroom "Not nearly neat enough."

Alice frowned "I went to a comp in Battersea... What's Hogwarts?" She was surprised to see Fred blanch a little bit at her question. He stared at her for a moment, his mouth slightly open and his expression frozen. Alice stared back expectantly "Why are you looking at me like that?" She reached for her cup of coffee and took a gulp. Fred was sat so still, she wondered if he'd crashed "Do I need to reboot you?"

Fred cleared his throat awkwardly, not meeting her gaze "I um... It was a joke. I was joking. You're right; I was doing it on purpose to annoy you."

"If you think for one moment I'm going to believe that then..." Alice trailed off as a sudden image of Daniel and his smouldering gaze invaded her mind. She giggled girlishly before she could stop herself, looking up at Fred "Sorry, what was I saying?"

Fred frowned "Are you always this easily distracted?"

Alice shivered as she took another sip of coffee and the feel of Daniel's touch surfaced in her memory "I don't know what you mean. You were asking me something, I'm sure of it."

"It's not important," Fred said hurriedly, gesturing to coffee cup in Alice's hands "That must be some pretty fantastic coffee."

"It is..." Alice said, more dreamily than she intended. She was starting to wish Fred wasn't here now so she could sit and fantasise about Daniel in peace "So, basically what you're saying is you've got nothing."

"I thought so, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe..." Fred said thoughtfully, sliding off the end of the bed and beginning to pace around the room "Alice, if I asked you where Hogsmeade is, you would say..."

Alice shrugged "Next door to Trumpton?"

"And if I asked you what a Bezoar stone is..."

"I'd say it sounds like something you wouldn't want to pee out."

Fred wrinkled his nose "You're disgusting. OK, I have to go but I'll be back when I know more."

"Aren't you going to tell me why I just had to play the weirdest pub quiz game ever?"

Fred smiled winningly at her but Alice thought she detected a hint of nervousness in his eyes. He tapped his nose with his index finger. “All in good time, Doctor Clark..."

Alice pressed the heel of her palm to her eye socket, sighing. She knew when she opened her eyes that Fred would be gone, but somehow looking up and seeing her empty bedroom before her still surprised her. Settling back on her pillows, she sipped her coffee and tried to concentrate on her newly acquired paranormal sidekick, but soon found herself distracted once more by visions of Daniel filling her head.

X

George grimaced as his head pounded in time with every step he took. The morning sky was bruised, the air was unseasonably cold even for October, and people he saw on the streets hurried past him, shrinking back into their coats. All the muggle shops were getting ready for Hallowe'en, their garish plastic pumpkins and witch toys too violent a clash of colour for his hungover eyes. He averted his gaze as he passed them, his thoughts turning to the previous nights' events.

In the end, nobody had needed to carry anybody home. After throwing what could only be described as some pretty ambitious shapes on the dance floor to her favourite song, Alice had bounced back to the table and beckoned for another pitcher of beer. They talked until closing time and it was only as the waitress began to glare at them from the bar, presumably waiting for them to leave so that she could clear their table and go home herself, that George became aware of a strange aching. Not in his heart, but in his face. He must have brought a hand up unconsciously to touch his cheek because Alice stopped as she was putting on her coat and reached up to push her forefinger and thumb into the dimples on either side of his mouth. “Smiling is like exercise," she said gently, her words slurring together only slightly "When you haven't done it for a while, it tends to hurt a bit."

George felt his cheeks become warm at her touch. He had caught a hint of the perfume she had sprayed on her wrist – floral, but somehow deep and earthy. He could feel the beginnings of guilt at having had a good time, but the drink must have numbed him. He knew eventually he would feel the full force of it, but right then he couldn't bring himself to care. He followed Alice dumbly outside and they had stumbled into a waiting taxi. When they arrived back at the flat she had bade him goodnight with a soft smile. George had gone to his room and passed out without even getting undressed, the ghost of Alice's perfume still haunting his senses. For the first time in a long time, he had dreamt of something other than fire and smoke and the unseeing eyes of his twin. Instead, visions of bottled music that looked like the ocean in moonlight had danced behind his eyes.

And now here he stood in the middle of muggle London, having awoken with an indescribable pain in his head and a churning in his stomach. Whenever they had indulged in one too many Firewhiskeys, Fred had always been the one who could drink a pain reliving draught and go back to bed whereas George, once awake, was seemingly destined to suffer through the hangover. He recalled one such occasion when his twin, having brought a particularly lovely young witch back to the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes after a drunken night in the Leaky, proceeded to stumble to the kitchen and take something that rendered him un-rousable for the next nine hours. George meanwhile, had been forced to make awkward conversation (and breakfast) for his twin's sleeping companion who had been initially confused but then completely delighted by the fact that Fred and George were identical to say the very least. Not the brightest star in the galaxy.

George grinned slightly at the memory and as he did, he felt something in his chest loosen momentarily. It was not all that often those memories of Fred surfaced wherein he was alive and happy and laughing, which was unusual for someone who had spent the majority of his life doing just that. George wondered if his decision to try living as a muggle was beginning to help him distance himself from everything that had happened. Whether being around someone like Alice was starting, finally, to heal him.

X

When the doorbell rang, Alice assumed George had forgotten his keys. As she padded down the hallway to let him in, she found herself wondering how he felt about Chinese food. Namely, the consumption of it. With her. Last night had been a lot of fun. Well, about as much fun as it was possible to have when you were trying to coax your bereaved lodger into perhaps seeing that there was still a lot of life left to live. Strictly speaking, she hadn't needed to take him out. She hadn't needed to check on him when she had heard him shouting in his sleep, but there was something so broken in his cries that she hadn't been able to ignore them, stirring from her bed and going to his aid.

But broken cries or not… what was she doing? Was she simply trying to be friendly with George for the sake of an easy life? Or did she want to be around him because she suspected that deep down inside him there was a person who, once upon a time, had lit up a room simply by being in it?

All thoughts of George vanished however, when she opened the door to find Daniel leaning casually against the frame, looking as delicious as ever. Alice was suddenly very conscious of the way her hair was flattened to her head on one side. “Oh hi…" She stammered, unconsciously tugging at the t-shirt she had worn to bed in an effort to tidy herself up "I didn't expect to see you…"

Daniel smirked and Alice felt a tingle run up her spine "I thought you might want some company today to help ease your hangover." Without waiting for an invitation, he strolled into the flat, deliberately grazing his hands over her hips as he passed. Alice suppressed a swoon before frowning. “How did you know I would be hungover?"

Daniel turned and levelled his gaze at her "I stopped by last night and you were out."

He had stopped by? To see her? And she had been _out_? Alice inwardly berated herself for the thing that she had, moments before, been congratulating herself on. How could she have been so foolish, taking George out for drinks when _Daniel_ had wanted to see her? Alice resolved never to leave the house again. She concentrated very hard on controlling the blush that was creeping up her neck and tried to act as nonchalant as possible. "You came to see me?"

"Well I didn't pop in to see your lanky flatmate did I?" Daniel sounded vaguely peevish, but Alice was still reeling from the fact that he had attempted to seek out her company the night before so she barely noticed "Is that who you were out with?"

"George? Yeah," Alice affected a casual air "He doesn't know that many people in London."

"I don't imagine he knows that many people in general – looks like a bit of a weirdo if you ask me." Daniel had reached for Alice and pulled her toward him. "I wouldn't associate with people like him if I were you. People might think you have a soft spot for the losers." Alice sighed as he gave her arm a gentle tug and began to pull her toward the bedroom "Come on, I didn't come here to talk about your flatmate…"

X

By the time he made his way back to the flat, the crippling pain in George's head had begun to ease a little. He wondered if Alice was suffering as well – should he bring her something? He ducked into a pharmacy but wasn't too familiar was muggle medicines, so spent a considerable amount of time staring mystified at what turned out to be a shelf full of feminine hygiene products. By the time he realised his error, the sales clerk had been giving him a concerned look from behind the counter for far too long for George to rectify the situation so he simply gave an embarrassed nod and made a quick exit.

As he reached the front door of their building, he noticed a familiar pair of shapes making their way up the road from the opposite direction. Arlene Appleby was dressed for the cold weather in a tartan raincoat and Driscoll, bounding alongside her, was wearing a matching bodywarmer. As she reached the steps in front of the house, she looked up at him and smiled warmly. “Why hello there, young George."

"Hello Arlene. Hello Driscoll…" George mustered a smile as he reached down to pet the dog, who responded with an enthusiastic wag of his tail.

"What are you doing out on such a filthy morning? You look frozen," Arlene shivered as if to emphasise her point "I wouldn't be out here myself with my arthritis but I have to take the baggage for a walk or else he whines something chronic; what's your excuse?"

"I like to walk," George said mildly "I go out most days – I could take Driscoll with me if that would make your life easier." He offered. Driscoll barked, seemingly giving his consent. Arlene gave him a glowing smile. “Oh you are kind. I would be terribly grateful, you know. I would be happy to pay you…"

George shook his head "That won't be necessary, I'd be happy to do it."

They talked for a little while longer out on the front step, their breath rising in the air above them and Driscoll sniffing contentedly about their feet. Eventually the door opened and George turned, expecting to see Alice but instead was met with the face of that simpering git from her band, Daniel.

What was he doing here? Daniel smirked first at George, then down at Arlene. "Sorry to interrupt your little…" He paused, as if searching for the right word "Chat."

He trained his cool gaze on George, seemingly squaring up to him. His eyes were hard and unfeeling, almost black. George felt his jaw tense. There was something about this bloke that he couldn't stand the sight of, if only he could put his finger on what it was. He moved out of the way to let Daniel pass but still felt their shoulders bump against each other slightly, as though he had deliberately pushed George out of the way. He unconsciously clenched his fists as he watched the arrogant git amble down the front steps and stroll off up the street. He wasn't even wearing a jumper for goodness' sake! Who did he think he was?

"Well, he's got half a crown on himself, wouldn't you say?" Arlene's voice broke into his thoughts and George allowed her a distracted smile "I wouldn't worry too much about him, dear. A lion never has to prove he's a lion, isn't that right?"

George gave an 'Mm', his eyes still trained on the retreating figure of Daniel. Arlene glanced down at Driscoll. "Well then baggage, I'd better get you inside." She gave George's arm an affectionate squeeze before disappearing inside. George stayed on the step a moment longer until Daniel had turned the corner and disappeared altogether. It was only once he turned to go inside himself that he had a chance to think about what Arlene had said _'A lion never has to prove he's a lion'_. What had she meant by that?


	15. Doom

George entered the flat, the warmth of the cosy space almost immediately starting to undo the damage that the cold outside had done to his bones. He shrugged out of his coat and made his way through to the kitchen, where he could hear Alice humming happily to herself as she pottered about. She stopped when she saw him and George tried to ignore the canary yellow swirls that disappeared with the tuneful sound, taking the faint aroma of buttermilk with them. “You don't look as though last night did you any harm."

Alice looked away bashfully "I felt pretty rotten until Daniel turned up but now I'm feeling much better," she blushed prettily and George felt the stirrings of jealousy in his chest "You on the other hand, look like you've been eaten by a badger. Are you hungry?" She gestured behind her and George realised that she was in the middle of mixing up something in a huge bowl on the surface "I thought something sugary might be in order so I'm making brownies." She gestured to the table "Sit down, you must be frozen."

"Actually, I have some things that I need to do," George tried to talk over the sounds of his stomach growling "I just wanted to say thank you… you know, for last night. I had a good time." He desperately wanted to stay in the kitchen and bask in Alice's sunny presence for a little longer, but the idea that had been percolating at the edge of his consciousness for the majority of his walk was now becoming more insistent.

"Oh," Alice smiled and George noticed that she had a tiny smear of icing sugar on her cheek "You're welcome, George. I had a lovely time too." They stood grinning at one another across the kitchen for a few moments before a tiny box by the oven made a pinging sound and Alice hurried to silence it before turning toward the oven. George took the opportunity to duck out and away into his room.

Changing into some dry clothes, George rooted through his trunk in order to find a spare scrap of parchment. Dusting off a quill that he was fairly sure hadn't seen any use since his Hogwarts days, he found a book to lean on and began to scribble notes.

After a while he paused, his quill hovering above the paper. A thought struck him and he made a snap decision, tearing off a blank sheet of parchment and scratching out a new note before folding it in half and hunting around for an envelope to place it in.

By the time Alice was ensconced firmly in her bedroom, it was dark outside. George crept into the living room, the note he had written clutched in one hand, the pot of Floo powder his mother had given him in the other. He moved through the flat without turning on any lights - if Alice happened to come in and see him crouched over the grate, the darkness of the living room may well be the only thing he could use to his advantage when convincing her that she hadn't seen what she thought she saw.

Nerves clenched at his stomach. What if Kingsley had closed the floo connection in Alice's fireplace? This was a muggle dwelling after all; it was unusual for them to be connected all the time but George had begged Kingsley to contact him with any and all news regarding the escaped Death Eaters. He knew the Minister liked to use Floo over sending owls, but Kingsley Shacklebolt was a sensible man who knew only too well the implications of an unsecured Floo connection in a muggle habitat. He may have decided it was too risky.

George quickly set about building a small fire, trying his hardest to be quiet. When the flames were sufficiently established, he took a deep breath and cast a pinch of Floo powder into the grate, almost weeping with relief when the flames turned the familiar emerald green "Thanks, King." He murmured to himself. Until that moment, George hadn't realised how much he had missed the everyday things that he had taken for granted growing up. Holding his note aloft of the green flames he quickly muttered the address to which he wanted it to go and dropped it in. The letter disappeared immediately and the flames returned to their normal orange glow. George rocked back on his heels and stared into the grate for a long moment, imagining the letter winding its way through the Floo network to its destination.

X

_A few days later_

The entry phone to the flat rang and Alice frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone. Perhaps George had forgotten his key again. A delighted thrill raced through at the thought that it _could_ be Daniel. She hadn't seen him since he had come to 'cure' her hangover and Alice had spent the last couple of days wandering around in a happy daze. Practically skipping to the phone, she plucked it from its cradle and held it to her ear, barely able to keep the excitement out of her voice "Hello?"

"Open the door." The sound of her mother's voice through the intercom, cold and formal, made Alice shudder. All previous cheerful thoughts forgotten, she muttered a "Yes, mother." Before hanging up the phone and pressing the door release button, trying to quell the impending sense of Doom with a capital 'D' that had overtaken her senses.

Evelyn Clark was a pinched looking woman, tall and thin. She had been, at one time, very beautiful with high cheekbones and elegantly arched eyebrows. Alice had inherited her long eyelashes and thick, glossy hair although hers had tended toward the fairness which she assumed belonged to her father as Evelyn had the dark Irish hair and fair skin that the rest of her family were born with. Alice watched as her mother stood in the centre of her living room, a look of weary disdain on her face as she appraised the situation. Alice loitered in the doorway feeling, as per usual, very much like an unwelcome guest in her own home.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Mother?" Evelyn fixed her cool gaze upon her eldest daughter "I won't be staying long. I've only come to remind you that we will be holding a party in December to celebrate Sarah and Peter's engagement. You will be expected to attend and I hope I don't have to remind you that any disrespect toward your sister will not be tolerated."

"I like how you say you hope you don't have to remind me but here you are, reminding me anyway…" Alice grumbled mutinously. Evelyn glared at her. “Don't answer me back, young lady. I realise that this is not perhaps the best of circumstances for you-"

 _Understatement of the century_ , Alice thought to herself.

"-But I expect you to behave like the lady I raised you to be. It does not matter how one feels in this situation, only how one looks." Evelyn pointedly eyed the yoga pants and vest that her daughter had put on that morning and Alice found herself wondering if this was the same motivational talk Evelyn had given herself when Alice's father had left all those years ago. Alice meditated for a moment on the cruelty of the words and imagined her mother standing in front of a mirror, tears running down her face, repeating them over and over again. In that moment, she allowed a modicum of sympathy for the woman who had, for her entire life, treated her like an unfortunate accident. She looked back to Evelyn, who was still holding forth.

"-Under no circumstances will you allow your failed relationship to overshadow this event, do you understand me?"

Alice blinked, a sudden realisation hitting her hard. In the months since she had met Daniel, the fact that her ex-boyfriend and her brat of a younger sister were now engaged had become first only a peripheral concern and later had disappeared from her mind altogether. Alice took a brief moment to consider this – had she really gotten past Pete and Sarah's transgression against her in such a short space of time? She felt a swell of emotions – happiness, triumph, relief. It didn't matter that Pete had left her, that he had been sneaking around behind her back with her sister for months – she had something better now. She had Daniel. Alice drew herself up to her full height and beamed at Evelyn.

"Mother, I can honestly say that I will be on my best behaviour."

Evelyn sniffed derisively and turned to leave. Alice followed her out into the hallway and just as her mother was reaching for the door, Alice caught her arm as though an afterthought had just occurred to her. “By the way, I will be bringing my new boyfriend to the party – I hope that's alright?"

Evelyn stared her up and down in silence for a moment, a small sneer quirking her once lovely lip. Eventually, she sighed heavily through her nostrils and nodded. Turning once more to go she opened the door to the flat to reveal George, his key raised and pointed at the door. He froze, his gaze whipping back and forth between Alice and her mother. Evelyn stared back at him appraisingly for a moment before turning back to Alice. "You don't seem to have wasted any time having this boyfriend of yours move in but I suppose I shouldn't expect any less from you." George opened his mouth to protest but Evelyn ignored him "Remember what I said – I will not tolerate any poor behaviour at the party. From _either_ of you." She said, throwing George a final cold glance before declining to bid her daughter goodbye and marching out.

George watched her go before turning back to Alice, his eyes full of questions. Alice raised a hand and waved at the dead air where Evelyn had been standing "Bye mother…" she said weakly. George gaped. "That was your _mother_?"

Alice grimaced at him "Don't be fooled by her charming and sunny disposition George. I have it on good authority that Satan himself has a restraining order against her."

George gave her a small smile as he hung up his coat "Are you alright?"

Alice waved her hand dismissively "Nothing I haven't seen before. Sorry I didn't correct her when she thought you were my boyfriend." She smiled sheepishly "It seemed to annoy her so much I just couldn't resist." George frowned "Why would that annoy her?"

Alice sighed "Because finding a new boyfriend and having him move in with me less than six months after Pete left would be just another thing I'd done wrong to spite her." She grinned at him "Thanks for playing along."

George grinned back "She didn't give me much choice. What did she want?"

"To remind me to behave at Sarah and Pete's engagement party. Don't worry, I won't make you come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend – I'll ask Daniel." She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw disappointment flash across George's face before he frowned again. "She came all the way to your flat to tell you to behave at the party of people who did such a terrible thing to you?"

Alice shot him a small bitter smile "Never underestimate how far Evelyn Clark would go to make a point."


	16. December

_A month later_

Before George realised it, November was nearly over. He and Alice had fallen back into their usual comfortable rhythm of hardly seeing one another except for the coincidental occasions when they would both be brewing tea at the same time. Sometimes they would chat, but Alice was usually on her way out the door to work or band practise or a gig. There had been a few nights when she didn't come home - presumably spending them with Daniel. George tried not to think about this too much. For his part, he stayed out of the flat as much as possible. Walking Driscoll had proved a useful distraction and he had taken to stopping in at Arlene's every day for a cup of tea. Arlene was a devil for cutting him another slice when he wasn't looking - George liked to think that Molly Weasley's mothering instinct would somehow know and be pleased that her son was slowly beginning to fill his clothes out once more. He liked that Arlene didn't expect him to talk about anything to do with his old life. Instead, she happily regaled him with tales from her life abroad, her three marriages and her weakness for taking in stray animals. George wondered briefly if he counted as one of them.

He had spoken with Hermione a number of times using the tiny machine as well, and each time she had patiently and gently informed him that no, there wasn't any news but they were working on it and please don't worry. George knew that she was trying to soothe him, encouraging him to have faith in the Ministry and the Order, but the very thought of Fred's killer walking around free made George's head spin and his blood boil.

By the first Saturday in December, things had settled well enough to lull George into a false sense of security. He still hadn't received a reply to the note he had sent via the Floo, but knew enough about the respondent to know that if speed were a priority, he had chosen the wrong person to assist him in this endeavour. And in fairness, he had been asking rather a lot of this person lately anyway. He awoke early in morning to the sound of rain lashing against the windowpane and padded out to the kitchen in search of breakfast. Alice was already ensconced at the kitchen table, notes and papers spread all around her. However she wasn't working, but rather staring distractedly off into the distance, a small smile playing on her lips. She started as George entered the room and sent him a beaming smile "Good morning George! Isn't it a gorgeous day?"

George gave her an odd look, quirking an eyebrow "You… like the pouring rain?"

"Is it raining? I hadn't noticed." Alice picked up her coffee and took a sip. George frowned, leaning in as he caught the scent coming from her cup. There was something oddly familiar about it. “What's that you have in your coffee?"

Alice smiled dreamily, leaning over the mug to inhale the aroma "Daniel's personal blend of coffee syrup – isn't that amazing? He's so talented. It has rose and peppermint and... I can't remember the rest but here-" She reached into her handbag and pulled out a tiny glass bottle. She unscrewed the cap and held it to George's nose "Smell it. It's _divine_."

George didn't need to smell the pearlescent liquid to know what was inside the bottle. He felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. What was in there was unmistakable, and Alice was well and truly under its effect "Daniel... gave you this?"

Alice nodded, beaming "Isn't he _wonderful_? He's the most _amazing_ bass player, and he's _gorgeous_ and he can make coffee syrup that turns the world into a better place."

George nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak. A memory had surfaced within his consciousness. Draco Malfoy, oily git and all-round bastard, teasing nervous first years in the halls of Hogwarts with his little crew of Slytherins: Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson... and Nott.

Theodore Nott. How could he have been so blind? George felt his blood run cold as he realised that the nasty little bastard had been under his nose the entire time. Nott had been missing since the final battle, presumed dead. George had never really believed it. The last time he had seen the whiny little tick he had been throwing around unforgivables for Voldemort while the Dementors formed a protective shield around him. That was the last time Fred had been by his side and George had to blink back tears as he remembered what it had been like as they had cast their Patronuses together that final time. Obviously, Nott had made some alterations to his appearance to evade capture – George didn't remember him being so muscular or his hair being quite so dark and he had definitely gained a few inches in height but there was no mistaking that smarmy expression, the cruel curve of his lip.

"Alice, when did he give this to you?" George asked quietly. Alice, barely listening, was now drawing hearts on her lecture notes "Hmm?"

"When did he give this to you?" George couldn't keep the edge out of his voice, reaching out to grab her arm. Alice looked at him in confusion. “A month ago maybe?" her eyes began to mist again "The most _amazing_ month ever."

A month? Nott was alive and he had been plying Alice with love potion for a month? George's head was spinning "Alice, are you drinking this every day?" she responded with a nod. George ran a hand over his face. _Fuck_.

"I need you to stay here today."

"I can't. I'm meeting Daniel." Alice's tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes widened when she saw George pocket the glass bottle "That's mine! Daniel gave it to me!" She reached out for it "Give it back!"

George held her by the shoulders firmly "Alice, I mean it. You _have_ to stay here today. OK?" Even as he said it he knew it would never be that easy. He tried to think of someone he could call, someone who would understand. He tried not to wish for the millionth time that Fred were there. He stared down at Alice and couldn't help but feel some tenderness toward the woman. He didn't know what she was caught up in or why Nott was slipping her a dose of love potion every day, but something was very wrong here and he could take a wild guess that it probably had something to do with what happened when she sang. All thoughts of neglecting to report that he happened to be lodging with an un-documented Obscurial flew from his mind. He needed to get her an antidote and he needed to tell the Ministry that there was a Death Eater posing as a muggle in London who was up to something. But first, he needed to make sure that Alice wasn't in danger. And he couldn't do any of it alone.

X

George cast the Floo powder into the living room hearth and tried to ignore the hammering and shouting coming from Alice's bedroom. He had (with considerable difficulty) managed to shut her in there after a small scale struggle during which he was fairly sure she had tried to bite him.

"George?"

"Ginny?" George peered into the fire.

Ginny Weasley's face appeared in the grate looking puzzled and concerned "Is everything alright?"

"Not exactly... I need a favour."

X

"George, you cannot seriously expect me to let you go and confront a suspected Death Eater alone whilst I babysit your muggle landlady!" Ginny was standing in the living room doorway to block her brother's path, arms folded and a look of consternation mixed with fear on her face. She had grown into an exceptionally pretty young woman, petite but with an athlete's stature. Her hair was wet from the shower and she had piled it loftily atop her head and her lips were chapped – she must have been out on the Quidditch pitch before he had contacted her via the Floo.

"Gin, I don't think she _is_ a muggle," Ginny raised an eyebrow and George tried to explain "I mean, I think she _thinks_ she's a muggle and she definitely doesn't know any magic-"

"George, if she _is_ a witch who has never used her power then why hasn't there been an Obscurial sighted and logged by the ministry? She's old enough now that any repressed magical energy would have had to go _somewhere_. Someone would know by now…" Ginny did her best to sound soothing and reasonable. George shook his head.

"I think that she sings her magic." He held his hands up at his sister's disbelieving look "I know it sounds mad, but hear me out. Her whole life she's been able to see music – she's always been told that it's some sensory disorder or something. She thinks she's the only one who can see the music when she sings. But I saw the music too... Ginny, it was so beautiful." George whispered, and for a brief moment Ginny Weasley saw the boy her brother used to be and wondered if he realised that his feelings for the girl currently creating a racket from her locked bedroom went beyond the normal concern one flatmate might have for another. George took a deep shaky breath "And I don't know why, but that filthy bugger Nott is up to something and he's trying to drag her into it."

Ginny's gaze softened "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I only realised who Nott was when Alice showed me the potion he'd given her-"

Ginny held up a hand to stop him "-No George, why didn't you tell anyone that you thought Alice might be a witch?"

George's shoulders slumped "I told myself I was wrong, that I hadn't seen what I thought I saw." He sighed "I came here to try and get away from magic. I didn't want to believe it. So I ignored it."

Ginny reached out a hand and squeezed her brother's arm. She didn't know what to say. George had been wrong not to report a potential magic repression case to the Ministry but as she stood before him, she understood what he was going through. Sometimes it was easier to pretend things weren't happening when you knew that to acknowledge them would only hurt more. George stared at his shoes "I have to try and make this right. Who knows what he could be planning?"

Ginny shook her head "George, you should report him to the Ministry and let _them_ deal with Nott. You can't just sort this out on your own – especially since he's a Death Eater!"

"Ginny, don't you understand? I _knew_ that Alice had this power that _she_ doesn't even know she has and I was so caught up in missing Fred and feeling sorry for myself that I failed to recognise that all along someone was taking advantage of her. If anything happens to her, it will be because I pretended not to notice just to save myself from any more pain. I can't let that happen." Ginny looked into her brother's eyes and saw something else alongside the guilt he was feeling… a spark that she had long thought gone. The will to fight, the will to protect – the nerve she had always so admired him for. In spite of her concern, it warmed her heart a little to see a flash of the old George. Even so, she knew that he couldn't be thinking clearly about this. It scared her that he was about to rush headlong into danger without a thought for what might meet him there. The banging and shouting from Alice's room had quietened now; she appeared to be sobbing for her 'beloved Daniel' in there. Ginny rolled her eyes inwardly – Love potions were so bloody undignified. She nudged George's arm again.

"If you find him, he'll know you're onto him," She said gently "He'll just disappear again, and then you'll be no further forward. Have you thought about that?" George paused as he shrugged his coat on and Ginny could tell that he hadn't given any thought at all to what Nott might do if he found out that George knew about the potion "And if you do confront him, what will you do? Ask him nicely to stop slipping Alice love potions?" Ginny's face hardened "Or were you planning on killing him?"

"I don't know, alright Gin? I just know that I have to do something!" George threw his hands into the air in frustration "Maybe I _should_ kill him!"

"George Fabian Weasley, I forbid you to behave in such a cavalier manner!" Ginny's tone was sharp and not unlike their mother's. Both she and George stared at one another in shock for a moment before bursting into hysterical laughter. George held his stomach as he doubled over "You've – t-turned into mum!" he wheezed, leaning against a wall for support before eventually sliding down to the floor.

"Y-you _made_ me!" Ginny giggled, reaching up to wipe tears from her eyes. Eventually their laughter subsided and Ginny sighed, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor next to her brother.

"What am I going to do, Gin?" George reached into his pocket for the love potion and turned it over and over in his hands. The pearlescent liquid seemed to glow inside the bottle and even sealed up, George could still smell the faint aroma.

"Don't you mean what are _we_ going to do?" Ginny elbowed George affectionately in the ribs "You've dragged me into this; I may as well help you."


	17. Diagon Alley

Alice was sobbing into her pillow when she became aware of Fred's presence in the room "Go away." She sniffled feebly, not even bothering to look at him.

"Good grief Alice, I know my presence in your life was unrequested but there's no need to bawl about it."

"You don't understand," Alice turned to face where he was sat at her dressing table, her eyes blotchy and cheeks tear-stained "Your brother has locked me in here to stop me from seeing the man I love!" she wailed, burying her face back into the pillow.

Fred frowned "George did that?"

"Yes!" came the muffled response "Don't act so surprised – I bet he's got previous for imprisoning women in their own homes and stopping them from seeing gorgeous men who make amazing coffee syrup!"

"First of all, that is an incredibly specialist fetish for even the most seasoned of perverts to have and _second_ ," Fred fixed her with a look "What sort of syrup are we talking about?"

Alice raised her head to narrow her eyes at him "What does it matter?" she hiccuped "George took it away from me!"

"Alice, this is very important," Fred crouched down next to the bed "This syrup – what did it smell like?"

Alice bit her lip "Buttered Toast, I think. And Ginger biscuits. And maybe…" she shook her head and looked away "You'll think I'm crazy."

"As a paranormal entity haunting the landlady of a most beloved sibling, I doubt it."

Alice sighed, her cheeks reddening slightly "It smells like… the smoke from Christmas crackers straight after you've pulled them."

Fred smiled "That's not so crazy."

"No, what's crazy is your brother keeping me away from Daniel!" Alice retorted. Before Fred had a chance to reply, there was a tentative knock at the door accompanied by a woman's voice and they both froze, their expressions stricken. "Alice? Alice… my name is Ginny – I'm George's sister. He's asked me to look after you while he's out. Are you alright? I thought I heard you talking to someone…"

Alice glanced back toward Fred but he had already disappeared. Slowly, she slid off the bed and padded over to the door "I want to come out." She sniffled petulantly "I want to come out and I want Daniel."

The voice on the other side of the door sighed "I don't think that's such a good idea, Alice..."

"Oh I see," Alice folded her arms and glared at the door "George wants Daniel all to himself does he? I thought he was acting weird whenever Daniel was around. Well you can just tell him that Daniel isn't interested because he's with _me_."

The voice snorted audibly "Yeah don't worry, I'll let George know."

"Don't laugh at me!" Alice stamped her foot and dissolved into tears once more. Outside, Ginny Weasley rolled her eyes in contempt before pulling her wand out and pointing it at the door _"Muffiato."_ She mouthed, giving a great sigh of relief when the loud melodramatic sobs were replaced by silence. George had better hurry.

X

George decided to walk to Diagon Alley rather than apparate, mostly because he suspected that to apparate after an extended period without magic would make him vomit, or at least provoke an unsolicited attack of biliousness. He shrank further back into his coat as the cold December air made to bite at his face and neck. He gripped the potion bottle tightly inside his pocket as he trudged toward the Leaky Cauldron, his stomach clenching anxiously as he thought about the last time he had set foot in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It had been the one and only time he had been in the store without Fred. Once had been enough, he had decided. There was nothing he couldn't do from somewhere else, somewhere that didn't remind him of Fred everywhere he looked. Of course, he hadn't realised that by trying to work from the Burrow, he had simply been swapping one set of painful memories for another.

George walked through the Leaky Cauldron as quickly and humanly possible, refraining from meeting anyone's eyes as he did so. He and Fred had celebrated the end of their first week in business here with several Firewhiskeys and lots of singing. There had been a lot of nights like that in the beginning. It had seemed that their moment in the sun had finally come and nothing could dampen their spirits.

Stepping into the Alley, George kept his head down and hurried through the Christmas shoppers, making a beeline for his destination. 93 Diagon Alley was as much an eyesore as it had ever been, but that had always been the plan. Fred and George had agreed that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes should be visible from the further possible point in the street, a beacon of irreverence and warmth and light at a time when darkness had been everywhere. The storefront was decorated for Christmas but George didn't linger for long on the pavement, knowing that if he didn't step inside now he would lose his nerve.

Pausing in the doorway, the assault on his senses was almost overwhelming. George bit back bile as he forced himself to scan the shop looking for the person he'd left in charge. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, it seemed, had not suffered a downturn in trade following the death of one owner and the reclusive nature of the other. Young children and adolescents belted about the store excitedly, followed by harangued looking parents laden with their school supplies. At the till, Verity was merrily ringing through purchase after purchase, bestowing her sunny smile on each customer. Nothing had changed. Not a single product stand had been moved, every display was exactly as he'd left it. George felt the heaviness flood back into his chest and fought the urge to turn around and walk straight back out. His fingers, thrust deep into his pocket, curled around the bottle of Amortentia, the ridges in the glass reminding him why he was here in the first place.

Nobody really paid him much attention as he moved through the store, gently winding his way through the crowds. He supposed it wasn't much of a leap to assume that no one would expect to see him here after all this time. Reaching the door to the stockroom, he paused as he heard a familiar voice.

"This is one of our specialities – a Daydream charm. Just pop it in your mouth, let it melt and soon you'll have drifted off into the most fantastical fantasy you've ever had. Now, bearing in mind that your daydream will most likely include appearances from people you find very attractive, what time are you planning to take it so that I know when to turn up?"

George watched as the pretty young witch that Lee Jordan was talking to blushed and giggled "What if I decide to take it before I have a bath?"

Lee waggled his eyebrows "Even better."

George cleared his throat and Lee looked around, gasping when he recognised the redhead, his eyes wide as though he was unable to believe what he was seeing "Merlin's beard! What are you doing here?"

George cocked an eyebrow "Listen I'm not sure if you've noticed, but my name's on the door, Lee. I'm kind of a big deal around here." _At least I used to be._

Lee sputtered "I just meant that – I didn't expect to see you-"

George grimaced "Me either. Any chance you could take a break in your busy flirting schedule and give me a hand with something?" Lee gave a start when he realised that the witch he had been talking to was still standing next to him looking ever more confused. He turned to her apologetically "Sorry love, business calls. Verity will ring up your purchases at the till."

X x X

Lee stared at the bottle that George had thrust into his hands the minute they had ensconced themselves firmly in the stockroom-cum-laboratory. He had listened silently while George had filled him in on how he came to be in possession of the Amortentia and his reasons for arriving back at the store unannounced as he rifled through boxes and plucked products off of shelves, placing them on the workbench ready to be brewed into an antidote. Lee simply stood, leaning against a wall, a pensive look on his face as he turned the bottle over and over in his grasp. Eventually, he had been silent for so long that George could no longer stand it. "Say something, Lee!"

His old friend looked up, a little dazed "Sorry, mate. It's just... this is a lot of information to take in. I can't decide whether to start with the fact that there's a Death Eater on the loose posing as a Hipster in Muggle London, the fact that he's been plying your Muggle landlady with Amortentia for a month or the fact - in light of all the other facts - that the first place you've chosen to come is _here_ instead of the Ministry!"

George stood by his old workbench, ingredients spilling from his arms, looking slightly guilty. Lee pushed away from the wall with his foot and approached the redhead "This... wouldn't have anything to do with that letter you sent me a few weeks back about the idea you had, would it?"

George shifted uncomfortably under his gaze "Why would you think that?" Lee narrowed his eyes "There's something you're not telling me, George. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

George gave a wry laugh "Apart from the Death Eater who's been frequenting my flat, you mean?" When Lee didn't respond, he sighed "It's complicated."

"I've got time." Lee reached up and gave George's shoulder a squeeze and for the first time since arriving in the store, George managed to look his oldest friend in the eye and saw in his expression that 'I've got time' clearly meant 'You can trust me. Please don't shut me out'. He wondered if Lee could see what a mess he was. George took a deep breath, and started at the beginning. He told him everything – about creeping to the living room door and seeing Alice's magic for the first time, about how she had taken him out and gotten him drunk, about how when the Minister for Magic had asked him if there was any possibility he was in danger, he had lied through his teeth despite knowing that he was living with an unregistered Obscurial. Once again, Lee listened intently, absently measuring out ingredients for him to add to the bubbling cauldron in front of them. When George had finished, he exhaled heavily, puffing out his cheeks. "So I guess that answers my question as to why you came here instead of going to straight to the Ministry."

George stared down at the potion as he stirred, giving a silent nod. Lee folded his arms and levelled his gaze at him "So what are you going to do?" George sighed "Right now, all I'm interested in is getting the antidote to Alice. She's been taking this for a month. A month, Lee. Who knows what that could have done to her mind?"

"And what about _after_ that?" Lee watched as George began ladling the finished potion out into several bottles. To be on the safe side, he'd produced enough antidote for four people.

"Merlin knows."

X x X

George decided to use the Floo Network to get back to the flat as time was short. Standing in front of the fireplace in the stockroom, he patted his coat down to ensure he had all of the bottles of antidote. Satisfied, he looked up to say goodbye to Lee and was met with a glare "What?"

"I realise that you have slightly more pressing matters to attend to today, but are we likely to expect the same amount of time to pass before your next visit?" Lee's tone was more scolding than accusatory, but all the same George felt his defences go up. "I'm just… I'm not sure I can come back. How can it ever be as good with just one of us?" He looked down at his shoes "That wasn't the dream."

"And feeding your landlady love potion antidote and dodging Death Eaters was the dream, was it?" Lee's tone was chiding "Just… don't leave it so long between getting in contact, alright? And by the way," he reached out to catch George's arm as he went to step into the hearth "The idea you sent me a few weeks ago was a score. Best thing you've come up with for a while. If you make it back sometime in the next century, perhaps we can talk about it."

X x X

Ginny sat up on the sofa as her brother bowled out of the fireplace into Alice's living room "Finally! What were you doing, picking the Gurdyroots yourself?"

"Sorry…" George pulled out all of the bottles he had brought with him and set them atop the piano. Ginny eyed them with a level of apprehension. "How many people have been drinking this potion, exactly?"

George didn't get a chance to reply as a strangled yell floated up from outside. Beckoning to Ginny to follow him through to the kitchen, he leaned over the sink and craned his neck to get a good view into the garden below "Bloody hell."

Alice had seemingly crawled out of her bedroom window and attempted to clamber down the trellis that covered the back part of the house. Somehow, she had gotten her foot caught and tumbled down into one of Arlene's flowerbeds where she now lay, struggling to get free. Driscoll, assuming that she had come to play, was clambering all over her and happily licking her face.

X x X

George knocked on Arlene's door and waited nervously for her to answer. When she finally opened the door, he did his best to look casual "Hi Arlene, sorry to bother you but-"

"-You've come to retrieve the lovesick young woman currently flattening my roses?" Arlene's smile was as bright as ever, giving nothing away. George blinked "Um – yes. How did you-"

"I've been around long enough to know the effects of Amortentia when I see it, young man. Besides, I've been waiting for precisely such an event to occur." She stepped back to open the door wide enough for him to enter her flat "Explanations can wait, George dear - there's only so long Driscoll can keep Alice from escaping."

X


	18. Damage Control

Perhaps it was her hair plastered to her head and her eye makeup dribbling down her cheeks in murky rivulets. Perhaps it was the fact that she was slumped fully clothed in the bath. Whatever it was, Alice looked so pathetic he almost couldn’t bear to look at her. 

George hadn’t given much thought to what he expected Alice to look like when the antidote finally began to take effect but even if he had, this was unlikely to be top of the list. Once he and Ginny had retrieved Alice from Arlene’s flowerbed and the three of them had wrestled the (surprisingly strong) woman up the stairs and into the warm bath that Arlene had poured generous amounts of the antidote into (“It will work twice as fast if it soaks into her skin as well as being ingested,” she had said matter-of-factly “Trust me - I once had to bring a cousin of mine around from Amortentia pretty sharpish before she tried to run off with Hemingway, the slimy git.”) and the potion had begun to take effect, it seemed as though all the fight had left Alice. Arlene had also stood over Alice and watched her choke back the remaining bottle of antidote with a cheerful bossiness and no-nonsense attitude that reminded George of Madam Pomfrey. Both she and Ginny had stayed for a while in case Alice got a second wind, but once they were confident that it had worked, they had left George to tend to his landlady as she recovered. Arlene had retreated back downstairs to her flat with a kindly smile to George that promised a deferred explanation. Ginny had given him a stern look and threatened to hex him if he didn’t contact her for help should he require it in the night before turning on her heel and apparating back to the flat she shared with Harry. 

George went back to the bathroom and surveyed the damage. Everything was soaked from their struggle to get Alice into the bath, and only now did he catch sight of the ragged hole in the shower curtain that Alice had put her foot through as she had fought back. He crouched down next to the tub to get a better look at its occupant. She appeared to be in a stunned stupor, her eyes hooded and her gaze directionless. George had never seen a system so saturated with love potion before. There were stories about people overdosing and ending up in St Mungo’s, never able to fully recover from its effects, driven mad with an infatuation that they had not chosen to harbour. Once again, George felt a swell of anger at Nott and his stupid bloody scheme. Hadn’t he known he might have sent Alice mad? Of course he had known, he just hadn’t cared. Slimy git. 

The question was what could he possibly want with a woman who, although in possession of magical abilities, had no idea what to do with them? A woman who knew nothing of the wizarding world? George tried not to get ahead of himself – all that mattered in that moment was ensuring Alice would recover from the Amortentia poisoning. Still, he could help but dwell on the possibility of what might have happened if the situation had been allowed to develop even further than it already had, the guilt gnawing a hole in his stomach as he stared at the leftover carnage in the bathroom. 

“George?” Alice’s voice was small and sad and George was jerked from his reverie to see that the woman in the tub hadn’t moved, hadn’t even turned her gaze upon him. “Alice?” A long moment passed during which George began to wonder if he had imagined that she had spoken, when suddenly there was that tiny broken voice again. “What happened?”

George shuffled himself closer to the edge of the bath and reached over to smooth some of Alice’s hair out of her eyes. As he tucked the loose strand behind her ear he noticed that she had a tiny set of intertwined hoops that sat further up her ear, away from the soft lobe where she already had several gleaming studs “I’ll explain when you’re feeling better. For now, just try to relax and let the antidote work. You’re safe here.”

“Will you stay?” The question caught him off-guard and George wondered if he had heard her correctly. “Yes of course,” he murmured “I’ll just be down the hall if you need me...”

“No, I mean… please…” Alice turned her gaze on him and her eyes were shiny with confused and frightened tears “Please stay with me.”

George felt something in his chest tighten and he could only nod wordlessly. Alice offered him a wobbly smile of thanks before slumping back into her reverie. Suddenly exhausted, George grabbed the only remaining dry towel from the rail and lay it on the floor by the bath as a makeshift seat. Sliding down with a sigh, they lapsed into exhausted quiet. Neither of them spoke for what felt like days. It was only when George noticed that Alice had begun to shiver and reached for the hot tap to top the bath up that he became dimly aware that they must have been sat there for hours. He sent her a querying glance as the water level rose, ensuring that he wasn’t going to burn her with the hot water. She offered him a small nod and he shut the tap off and settled back down. Once again, they settled back into silence.

Eventually it was Alice who broke it “So that was your sister who came to help you today.”

George nodded “Yeah, that’s Ginny.”

“Oh.” A moment’s pause “Will you tell her that I’m sorry I tried to kick her in the face?”

George huffed a laugh “I wouldn’t worry. She gets worse than that out on the pitch.”

Alice was silent again for a moment, her eyes trained on her hands as she swirled them absently through the water “I’m... sorry that I tried to kick you in the face as well.”

“There was no ‘try’ about that one,” George reached a hand up to his chin unconsciously rubbing the spot that Alice’s foot had connected with “That was very definitely a successful kick to the face.”

“...And the biting...”

“...Don’t mention it.”

“I’ve never so much as tripped someone over before,” Alice moaned, reaching up to cover her face with her hands “I’m not a violent person.”

“Which is for the best, given how well you can apparently fight,” George chided gently “Besides, I think we can safely say that you weren’t yourself.”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Alice sniffed and shifted herself around noisily in the bath trying to get comfortable “Has Daniel been… giving me something? Have I been drugged?”

“In a way,” George spoke slowly, taking care to keep his tone measured “The syrup he gave you to put in your coffee was laced with a substance called Amortentia. It… makes you think you’re in love.”

Alice snorted “Don’t be ridiculous, George.”

“I know it sounds mad, but...” He sighed “Alice, I need to tell you something...”

And so he did. To the best of his ability, George tried to explain the world he had grown up and taken for granted to Alice. She gazed at him with wide eyes as he talked about wands and potions and Lord Voldemort and the war that had claimed his brother. As he spoke, George felt a strange sensation sweep over him. It was as though he was telling her the story of another life that he was somehow removed from. When he’d finished, he studied her face, awaiting a reaction. Alice stared back, chewing her lip thoughtfully. She was silent for a long moment.

“So you’re a...” she trailed off, the sentence hanging in mid-air.

“A wizard.” George supplied gently, hoping that this would not provoke an outburst similar to earlier that day.

“A… wizard.” Alice repeated, as if testing the word out in her mouth. She sat forward in the bath and rested her elbows on her knees, accompanied by the sound of water rushing from her saturated clothing “And when you say wizard, you don’t mean the kind of wizard who dresses up and goes to the park to play some role playing game where he’s married to an Elven Queen?”

George gave her a half smile “No.”

“So you can do magic?” He nodded. Alice raised her eyebrows “ _Real_ magic? Not just card tricks?”

“I’ll have you know that my card tricks are second to none.”

“Will you show me?” 

George noticed that in spite of her obvious interest, Alice had once again begun to shiver. He hopped to his feet and held out a hand to her “Let’s get you dry.”

Alice frowned down at her sopping clothes “The floor is going to be soaked...” she said mournfully, but took George’s hand anyway and allowed herself to be hauled to her feet, streams of water cascading noisily from her garments. She went to clamber out of the tub but George held up a hand to stop her and Alice watched in amazement as he muttered something under his breath. Almost immediately, every drop of water within a metre radius evaporated and Alice was left standing in an empty bathtub, her clothes and hair completely dry. She gaped at him for a moment, their hands still joined “Do something else.” She whispered, and George tried to ignore the thrilled shiver this sent through him. Alice seemed to bristle with electric energy and he reminded himself sternly that out of the two of them, he needed to be the calm and responsible one. He gave her hand a gentle tug. “You’ve had a shock today. You need to take it easy. Let’s get you out of the bath.”

Alice allowed George to assist her in climbing out of the bath. Once back on solid ground, she went to let go of his hand but then thought better of it, her grip tightening once more as she stared into his eyes. “George, why did Daniel want to give me that potion? What does he want with me?”

George looked down at the young woman whose world had just been turned on its head. She looked exhausted but confused a little frightened. He gave her hand what he hoped was a comforting squeeze “His name isn’t Daniel. It’s Nott. Theodore Nott.”

“You know him?”

George grimaced “More like hated the sight of him. He was a few years below us at school and was in with the crowd who worshipped Voldemort.”

“The wizard who started the war?”

George nodded, and Alice took a moment to process this. George supposed they must look slightly ridiculous, standing in the bathroom holding hands, inches apart from one another. Their conversation was as hushed as if they’d been stood together in a packed lift.

“But... what could he possibly want with me? I’m no-one.” George bit back the urge to reply that Alice Clark was not now and never would be, a no-one. He thought about all of the information she had been pelted with in the last few hours. Would learning that she was in fact a witch herself send her over the edge? 

“I’m... not entirely sure what he’s up to,” he said “But I promise you that he won’t get a chance to hurt you again. We’ll figure it out together, Alice.” 

Alice stared up at George, her gaze trained on the quiet fire in his eyes, the fiercely protective look on his face. His hand was warm and strong and calloused and seemed to envelope hers completely. Alice felt a spark of electricity within her and prayed that she wasn’t blushing. She dipped her gaze and nodded. “I believe you.”


	19. Disloyalty

George walked with Alice along the hallway to her bedroom, keeping his steps deliberately slow as if he were escorting an unsteady elderly relative. He kept a gentle hand on her elbow, unsure what the sudden flooding of her system with Amortentia antidote would do to her sense of balance. At least that was what he told himself. As they reached her door, he let go and stepped back, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place "I um... I'll let you get some rest. I'll be just down the hall if you need anything." He mumbled, the intimacy of their earlier conversation evaporated. It seemed that outside of the confined space of the bathroom, he suddenly felt nervous around Alice once more.

She stared at him for a moment, still a little mussed from her most recent adventure. She should be exhausted, George thought to himself. Instead, although holding back a gigantic yawn, her eyes were bright and alert, a tiny frown wrinkling her brow as she attempted to assimilate what had just happened to her. Silently, she nodded and reached for the door handle. Stepping inside her room, she offered him a gentle smile and shut the door behind her. George sighed heavily and made his way along to his own bedroom, closing the door and leaning heavily against it. No sooner had he done so however, than there was a knock from the other side. Frowning, he opened the door to reveal Alice wearing a pyjama shirt but still in her jeans, presumably having been halfway through changing for bed when the need to speak with him had struck. George tried not to find this adorable. He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright but she beat him to it.

"Are you hungry?"

George stared at her for a few seconds, the words catching briefly in his throat before he could get them out "Starving."

Alice grinned.

X x X

"How did you know that you were magical?" Alice leaned forward over the kitchen table, which was littered with an array of food containers that she had had delivered to the house. They had fallen on the food like hungry animals the moment it had arrived, not bothering to find plates. Alice had fished a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured them both generous glasses. Despite his exhaustion, George was feeling satiated and warm as the alcohol loosened his tense limbs.

"It runs in some families. My parents are magical, as were their parents and so on." George shrugged "It was just something we grew up around."

Alice nodded, reaching for another spring roll "So everyone in your family can do what you did in the bathroom?"

George nodded "It doesn't always work like that, though. Just because you're born into a magical family doesn't mean you will have any magical talent - it's pretty rare but not impossible. Alternatively, some children are what we call Muggleborn - they have non-magical lineage but develop magical powers in childhood. Just before their eleventh birthday, they receive a visit from an elected official to explain everything to them and their family and inform them that they have a place in a magical school."

"There's a _school_?"

George nodded again "There are several. We went to Hogwarts." He thought he saw Alice blanch slightly at this but couldn't be sure. She stared at the leftover food meditatively for a moment. "And you only know about this place if you're magical?"

"Or if someone in your immediate family is magical. Wizards and witches do marry muggles. I think for their safety they aren't allowed to be too familiar with magic and they aren't allowed to tell anyone else, but it does happen."

"Huh." Alice drained the rest of her wine "So the magic world is a pretty big secret?"

"The biggest. Alice, I'm begging you - please don't talk about this to anyone." George gave her a pleading look "It would put you in too much danger for me to be able to protect you. I know you've already been through so much today but I need you to promise you won't tell anyone you know about the Wizarding world."

Alice stared at him impassively for a moment "You know," she said finally "I think I've heard you say more words together today than I've heard you say since you've lived here."

George offered her a small smile "It's easier to keep a secret when you aren't talking." He said wryly.

Alice raised an eyebrow pointedly "It seems like it would be _easier_ to flatshare with another wizard... How come you decided to live with me?"

"Because you let me." George tried his best to sound flippant, but his voice caught in his throat. Alice tipped her head sideways and gave him a scrutinising look. "George."

He sighed sadly "After Fred died, I... Didn't know what to do. I couldn't face going back to the shop and living at home was just as painful. Everything I saw reminded me of him. Because of the war, a lot of magical families were applying for relocation - deciding to live as muggles. They couldn't bear to bring their children up in the wake of everything that had happened. I thought I would apply too, but a friend-" he smiled in spite of himself "-talked me out of deciding right away. She told me to try living as a muggle first to see if I could manage it, that she had a childhood friend looking for a new flatmate and thought that living with her would be good for me."

Alice stared at him, her mouth hanging open "You mean - _Hermione_ is a - a-"

"Witch? Of course." George grinned across the table "Brightest Witch of her age, so it's been said."

" _Well_." Alice puffed out her cheeks, shaking her head incredulously "I mean - _Well_! I'm certainly going to be having words with her the next time I see her!"

"Actually, it might be best if you don't mention this to Hermione _either_..." George trailed off awkwardly. Alice gave him a confused frown and he said hurriedly "It's just that she works for the Wizarding government and they're rather... strict about these things."

"Could you... Get into a lot of trouble for telling me about magic?" Alice asked, suddenly concerned "Could you be arrested?"

George shifted uncomfortably in his chair, eyes cast downwards "We have a statute of secrecy that could result in a prison sentence if it gets breached. Technically speaking, I'm supposed to perform a spell that wipes your memory of everything magical..." He trailed off, glancing up at her from beneath his lashes. Alice stared back at him.

"Why haven't you?" She asked quietly. There was no fear in her voice, no accusation. George stared at her, trying to understand what she meant. Alice tried again "I mean... Wouldn't it be safer for you if I didn't know about..." She gestured at the empty air "all of this?"

"Are you saying that you _want_ me to erase your memory?" George couldn't help but be surprised by the feeling of disappointment that this prospect gave him. Alice shook her head vehemently.

"Not at all! Don't get me wrong, today has been..." She scrabbled for the right word " _surprising_ to say the least, but finding out that there's a whole other world living alongside mine is _amazing_. George, that thing you did with the water in the bathroom - I mean _wow_." She breathed, her eyes alight with a fire by which he found himself more warmed than he cared to admit "But if my knowing about magic would get you into trouble... George, I don't want you to be in danger because of me."

"You would allow your memory to be tampered with to keep me safe?" Alice nodded shyly and George felt a swell of feeling in his chest, followed by the crushing guilt caused by knowing that she was offering to sacrifice part of herself for him when he hadn't been entirely truthful with her "Alice, I have to tell you something..." What could he say? 'I think you might be unknowingly harbouring powerful repressed magic that could see you experimented on for the rest of your natural life and what's more, I think it may be the reason that a known war criminal is after you'? George floundered inwardly as he imagined her reaction to him revealing to her that he believed she was magical too; right now, she was merely an outside observer to a fascinating world. Would she feel the same once she found out that once upon a time she could have had a place in it but had somehow slipped through the net? He wondered how she could have been overlooked for a place at Hogwarts, how the Ministry could possibly have missed her. She would want to know, and right now he didn't know what to tell her. He needed to be able to give her more information. Arlene's face flashed into his mind. Perhaps he should talk to her before broaching the subject with Alice. Now he thought about it, it had been obvious all along that the older lady knew more than she had been letting on, and her sudden presence in the downstairs flat was clearly not as much a coincidence as it had appeared.

Alice stared at him expectantly, her expression trusting and hopeful. George swallowed his confession and sighed inwardly. "Hermione was right - Living with you has been the best thing to happen to me for a long time." He could feel himself blushing as he realised the truth in what he was saying. He was still miles from feeling whole again but living here, in this homey and warm flat with this wonderfully bright and fiercely kind woman had started to breathe life back into him, started to make him feel like there may be some life left worth living.

The smile she gave him was radiant "I think that you living here may be one of the best things to happen to me too." She poured them each another glass of wine and glanced cheekily at him "Not least because I'm not sure who else would have been able to rescue me from the clutches of a love potion. Just think - I might have been stuck mooning after that horrible creep forever. Then again," she sighed mournfully "With my track record of falling in love with bastards, who would have noticed the difference?"

The words came tumbling out before he could stop them "I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me."

The words hung between them as they stared at one another, processing what George had just said. Alice played with the stem of her wine glass as she studied him, her expression thoughtful. It seemed as though she was seeing him for the first time. George felt strangely vulnerable under her gaze, but willingly so. He felt as though she was opening him up, carefully dismantling the walls he had painstakingly constructed around his heart and looking at him, casting a tender light on his cold soul. She smiled again "And I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt because of _me_. So I suppose that means we're stuck with one another."

X X X

"You can't be serious!" George gave a start as an incredulous yell jerked him from sleep. Panicked, he rose from his bed and stumbled out into the hallway, moving toward the sound. He and Alice had only gone to bed as it had gotten light, and a quick glance at his watch told him that he had been asleep for around four hours.

Arriving in the kitchen he was met with the sight of Alice, still in her pyjamas, arms crossed and glaring furiously at the man standing across from her. George recognised him as one of the other members of her band. He was a tall and rangy bloke, dressed in clothes that were far too young and fashionable for him. "Al," he was saying "Daniel and Blake are completely up for this and you have to admit that it's a really good deal..."

"How is it a good deal, a Teddy?" Alice asked "The offer to play at the wedding of my sister and my ex-boyfriend?" She threw her hands in the air in frustration "Can't you see they're only asking us to make trouble for me? If I agree to it, it will look like I'm completely fine with the fact that they were shagging behind my back for months and if I _don't_ agree to it, the rest of you will resent me for saying no!"

"So it has _nothing_ to do with the fact that Saving Carla is a great band and deserves to be paid a lot of money?" Teddy looked annoyed "Plus the fact that your sister told me that she has some record producer friends who will be there who might be interested in us? Is it not possible that perhaps she's trying to help you? To maybe make up for what happened?"

Alice let out a bark of laughter " _Record producers_? Teddy, Sarah doesn't know any record producers! If you believe that, you'll believe anything..."

"What do _you_ know? You barely speak with your sister! When she came to see Blake and I about booking the band, she said you'd always been cold towards her, that you'd always hated having to share your mother with her and your stepfather-"

"-You know what, Teddy?" Alice's eyes flashed dangerously and George heard a tiny _crack_. Glancing over at the kitchen window, he could see a few tiny hairline splinters appearing in the corner of the pane "You can do whatever you like. Play the wedding, don't play the wedding - it's up to you. But whatever you decide, you can count me out. I'm done. I don't want to see any of you ever again. Leave." Her voice quivered with barely controlled rage. Teddy glared at her for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists before stomping out of the kitchen. Alice and George listened as he stormed down the corridor and slammed the front door, causing the cracked pane of glass in the kitchen window to shatter making them both jump.

"Unbelievable." Alice muttered, hurrying to the kitchen sink where most of the fragments had fallen. George joined her there, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her reaching for the shards. Alice shook her head "It's OK George, I can manage..." She said with false brightness, though her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. George shook his head and gently moved her hands away. He whispered a quick ' _Reparo_ ', and seconds later, the windowpane was once again whole. Alice stared at the window for a moment, her mouth slightly open "I don't think I'll ever get used to that." She murmured, then a little sadly "I don't suppose that one works for fixing broken friendships, does it?"

"If it helps, you're probably better off without those kinds of friends..." George said gently "But I'm sorry that they hurt you." Alice gave him a wobbly smile before covering her face with her hands "Oh God George, this is such a mess…"

"Don't worry…" said George hurriedly, although inwardly he felt the tug of nervousness as he realised that Nott would almost certainly know that Alice was no longer under the effects of the Amortentia when Teddy gave the band the news that Alice didn't want to see any of them - that was, if he hadn't already worked it out when she had failed to go and meet with him the day before "I promise you we'll figure something out." _Hopefully before Nott turns up at the flat which he probably will sooner or later…_ George ran a hand over his face, quickly formulating a plan "Will you be alright here for a bit? There's someone I need to speak with."

X


	20. Disclosure

"Are you angry that I neglected to tell you the real reason I was here?" Arlene and George were sat in their usual chairs in her living room. Driscoll sat on his owner's lap quietly and she stroked him absent-mindedly whilst casting a nervous glance in his direction.

George sighed, the restlessness of the previous night's sleep weighing heavily on him "I'm not angry, Arlene. I understand why you couldn't tell me who you were until you could be sure I wasn't a muggle."

"My dear boy," Arlene offered him a kind but teasing smile "I still haven't told you who I am, and nothing on this earth could convince me that you weren't a wizard. But I couldn't jeopardise my cover until I knew that we were..." She paused "... on the same side, as it were."

"What gave me away? I didn't carry my wand again until today, I've performed barely any magic for months..." George frowned "How could you possibly know?"

"Do you mean besides the fact that you are easily the worst muggle impersonator I have ever seen? And I should know, darling - I was the one who told Liberace to go completely over the top with the sequins or he might just as well go back to curse-breaking for Gringotts." At George's blank look, she gestured to the fireplace on the opposite side of the sitting room. "It was the Floo." George blinked "Pardon?"

"I had been living here for a month or so when I realised that someone else in the building had a Floo connection." George thought of his conversation with Kingsley, wondering if Arlene had heard it. He searched her face for any indication that she knew of his connection with the Minister for Magic. "You knew about our Floo connection?"

"It was only when you sent a letter that I could be certain that it was you, George." Arlene's voice was gentle.

"Why not say something then, though? Why wait until yesterday?" George was still smarting slightly from the comment about his ability to pass as a muggle.

Arlene sighed "Because I am here strictly in a surveillance capacity. I had made my mind up that I was simply to keep an eye."

"On who? Me?" George's mouth went dry as he thought about the possibility of someone he knew putting a tail on him without him realising. Arlene laughed "No dear - on Alice."

Somehow, that made George's stomach clench even tighter than it had when he thought he was the one being watched "You mean - you know that Alice is a-"

"A witch? Yes." Arlene ruffled Driscoll's fur and the dog sighed contentedly "Unfortunately, by the time I arrived she was already being watched by someone else and I was unable to make myself obvious to you without alerting the... Wrong people, if you know what I mean."

George thought of Nott and felt his jaw tense "So you're here to protect her? Who sent you? And who are you protecting her from?" The questions were coming quicker than he could stop them. He stood and began to pace "Wait- if you know Alice has an Obscurial then it must have been documented by the Ministry at some point. How did she get missed? Where was her Hogwarts letter?"

Arlene watched him calmly from her chair as he gradually began to run out of steam "Alice was not missed, George."

"Really? If Alice wasn't missed then do you mind telling me how there's a woman upstairs who bleeds magic from her pores when she sings?" George meant to sound sarcastic but his words came out weary and confused. He stopped pacing and looked pleadingly at the older woman "Who are you?"

Arlene gave him a small but sad smile "I'm her Special Messenger."

X X

Alice flopped onto her bed and stared around her bedroom despondently, her gaze naturally coming to rest on the dress she had picked out and hung on the front of the wardrobe for her sister's engagement party that evening. Memories of her earlier row with Teddy surfaced and she felt her anger rise again, coming to a boil when she allowed herself to think about Daniel - no, what was it George had called him? Nott - and what he had been doing to her for the last few months. Alice shuddered, partly from embarrassment at the way the potion had made her behave and partly because she couldn't help but feel... A little violated by it all. Nott had toyed with her emotions, fed her a substance that had relieved her of her ability to choose. She thought about the classes that she had taught about sexual assault, about date rape. Was this the same thing? Had she been coerced into bed with Nott? The scholar inside of her began idly piecing together a research proposal on the ethics of giving love potions while the tired and confused girl inside of her tried to make sense of what had happened in the last few months. She had definitely been attracted to Nott before he had started to slip her the Amortentia... As far as she knew. Alice racked her brain trying to think of the earliest possible point when he could have started to drug her.

"Why so blue?" Alice jumped and turned to glare at Fred who was leaning casually against the doorframe, a rakish grin on his face "I take it from the absence of sobbing that yesterday's undying love has now shuffled off it's mortal coil?"

"You have got to stop just appearing like that," Alice said a little crossly "One day I'll have a heart attack and I'll have to wander around the afterlife with only you to irritate me."

"Nonsense," said Fred cheerfully "There are plenty of annoying people like me in the afterlife - we would soon draw up a rota." He crossed to the bed and sat down opposite Alice. 

She stared at him for a moment "Why didn't you tell me you were a wizard?"

Fred shrugged "It's not the sort of thing one reveals apropos of nothing, Alice." He said mildly "Besides, I was already in enough trouble with you for being dead and in your living room - can you imagine the reaction you would have had if I'd started talking about magic being real too?" Alice didn't reply and Fred seemed to take the opportunity to try and steer the conversation in a different direction "So my brother got you the antidote to the love potion?" Alice nodded "And he explained all about our world?" She nodded again "And about... What happened to me?" Another nod "Say something, Alice. I'm beginning to prefer you when you're under the effects of a love potion."

"Why did you assume I'd gone to a magical school like you?" Alice asked quietly, scanning Fred's face for his reaction. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze; now it was his turn to stay silent "Fred?" The redhead looked first down at the bedspread and then up to meet her eyes. He seemed almost apologetic for what he was about to tell her.

"Because muggles can't see ghosts, Alice."

X X

George closed the door to the flat and called out to Alice to let her know it was him. She didn't reply and this immediately put him on his guard. As he had left the flat to go downstairs he had placed a defensive ward on the place without telling her - nothing too sophisticated, but enough that any intruders would be temporarily disabled which would buy George enough time to get Alice out. As he had ascended the stairs after talking to Arlene, praying that he would find the ward still intact, he had been starkly reminded of the early days of the war when he and Fred had fought to keep the shop open despite their parents' plea to quit it. Every other minute had been spent looking over their shoulders, tensing for the blow. The story Arlene had just told him echoed around his head, leaving him feeling shell-shocked. His quest for clarification had been successful, but now he was left wondering if he was any better off for being in possession of all of the facts.

George crept down the hallway, wand out, freezing at every sound he heard. The living room door was closed most of the way. He reached out a foot and gently nudged it so that it swung open "Alice?"

"George?" Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper. She was crouched on the living room floor amid a festival of chaos. Books had flown off of shelves and torn themselves apart, vases and ornaments had been smashed to smithereens. A solitary picture remained on the wall, hanging crookedly and looking decidedly weathered. George hurried over to Alice and knelt before her, taking her by the shoulders gently and checking to see she hadn't been hurt "Are you alright? What happened? Did someone break in? Who did this?"

Alice's eyes were wide and glistening as she stared at the carnage around her; she seemed to be in shock but otherwise unhurt. At George's touch, she turned her gaze to him, lip trembling.

"I did."

**Twenty Minutes Earlier**

"What do you mean 'muggles can't see ghosts'?" Alice's tone was measured but inside she was quivering. Fred stared at her, his eyes wide.

"Haven't you ever wondered why you see music the way that you do?"

Alice shook her head dazedly "I have a condition..."

Fred scoffed "A condition? That's a funny way of saying that you're a witch. Honestly; muggles will rationalise anything as long as it means they don't have to face the facts."

"Synesthesia is a real thing..." Alice said weakly. She stood and began to pace about the room nervously. 

Fred rolled his eyes "Of course it's a real thing, Alice. You just don't have it." He stood and regarded her closely "Right now, I'm more interested in the fact that this appears to be new information to you. Are you sure that you've never been visited by one of us before? It would have happened when you were a child most likely, since you were muggleborn. Someone would have come to the house and sat you down and talked you and your parents through it. You can't honestly tell me you don't remember that …"

"Fred, I'm not pretending for dramatic effect here," Alice snapped hotly, pacing still "Until last night, I had no idea that magic even existed. Today, I am faced with the prospect that the affliction I have been taught to be ashamed of my entire life is not what I thought it was. If you don't mind, I'd like a moment – perhaps two - to be completely astounded." Seemingly having run out of pacing space, she wandered distractedly out into the living room, Fred hot on her heels. 

The ghost shrugged at her retreating back offhandedly "Talk about ungrateful. I thought you'd be pleased-"

"WELL I'M NOT!" screeched Alice, the dam on her emotions finally breaking, all of her mounting shock and frustration pouring out. She barely noticed the clap of thunder that this caused directly above her head "I've just discovered that my whole life has been a lie, Fred! I'm shocked and sad and a little bit scared so if you could just bugger off and give me five minutes I would REALLY BLOODY APPRECIATE IT!" Fred, despite his non-corporeal and therefore relatively safe state, shrank back as a gale-force wind seemed with whip up around Alice as she vented her feelings in his general direction. Books began to fly off of shelves, pictures rattled on the wall before lifting themselves from the hooks and clattering to the floor. Ornaments broke into tiny pieces to the clumsy accompaniment of the keys on the piano being pressed haphazardly by invisible fingers and joined the throng of airborne possessions.

"Alice, you have to calm down!" Fred yelled over the din, shards of ornaments and ripped up pages of books flying through him. Alice stood frozen in the centre of it all, unable to hear him or see anything other than the detritus of her life swirling about her, the safe little existence she had made for herself coming apart at the seams. Eventually, as her anger gave way to unbearable sadness, she felt herself begin to cry. As if in tune with her mood, the pandemonium receded slowly until she was left in the middle of the living room surrounded by chaos. Fred stood to the side, wide-eyed. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Are you… alright?"

"I've been better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing and leaving kudos so far!


	21. Detritus

_Many Years Earlier_

_Arlene shifted uncomfortably in the muggle clothes that she had worn to detract attention from herself and make her less intimidating to the girl's family. Digging the parchment from her pocket to check the street name against the sign in front of which she was standing, her eyes strayed to the top of the page where the child's name was written and inwardly she cursed her boss once more for handing this assignment to her. His rationale had been that as a woman, Arlene would likely be less intimidating to the child's mother. Nothing to do with Magnus Philpott's desire to spare his more favoured messengers the frustration and complicated paperwork that this assignment would inevitably cause._

_The child had been born out of wedlock in a muggle hospital to a mother who had registered her firstborn under her maiden name. Seemingly, she had subsequently married and used the muggle legal system to change the child's surname to that of her new husband's. Were Arlene a cynical person, she would infer from this an attempt to distance herself and the child from the biological father, to put as much space between the child and her roots as possible. Somewhat understandable, given the situation, Arlene supposed. Nevertheless, she was an optimist and as such she chose to hope that it had been an effort to make the child feel as included as possible in the mother's new life._

_It had been raining all morning, big fat drops sheeting down from the sky and gathering in the dips in the uneven roads. Arlene hurried toward the house she had been sent to. It was an affluent suburb of London. Tall and beautiful trees lined the road and all of the front lawns were neatly kept. At the gate, she paused. From inside the house came the shouts of children – not gleeful, but taunting. If she strained her ears, she could just make out the cries of 'Freak!' and 'Weirdo!'. Arlene sighed and trudged up to the door, raising a resigned hand to knock officiously on the painstakingly varnished wood._

_It took less than a minute for someone to answer. A tall man, thin and narrow-eyed, observed her disinterestedly "Are you selling something?"_

_Arlene bit back a retort, instead pasting a bright smile on her face "No, Mr Clark. I'm here to talk to you and your wife about Alice."_

_"Alice?" An equally thin and equally tall woman appeared at the door, the expression on her face seemingly indicating that she had just witnessed a small and unwelcome rodent in her biscuit tin "Are you from the school? What has she done?"_

_"Mrs Clark, my name is Arlene Appleby. I have been sent here by the Ministry to talk to you and your daughter about her magical education."_

_The colour drained from Evelyn Clark's face. The three of them stood in frosty silence as Arlene, having now relinquished any hope that she would be invited in out of the rain, suppressed a shudder as a chilly raindrop dribbled from her hair and down her neck._

_Mr Clark scoffed "What on earth are you talking about?"_

_"Phillip," Evelyn said sharply, wheeling around to face him "This is obviously someone's idea of some idiot joke. Go and tell Alice to sit in her room until I tell her she can come out. I will deal with her." She jerked her gaze back toward Arlene, who was vaguely pleased to note that Evelyn looked as though she might be sick._

_Phillip Clark grumbled something irritably, but did as he was instructed. Evelyn watched him silently as he sloped off down the hallway, calling for his stepdaughter. Peering past her, Arlene saw a small fair-haired girl with watchful eyes appear only to be herded up the stairs. It was only a glimpse however, as her view was soon obstructed by Evelyn Clark stepping out into the rain and shutting the front door firmly behind her._

_"You listen to me," she hissed, bile dripping from her words "Not now, nor will I ever consent to my daughter entering a school for freaks and lunatics. I know that this has to be her father's wish but if he felt so strongly about it then perhaps he should have stuck around for a bit longer instead of leaving me and going into hiding for all these years with the rest of you. I refuse to receive you or any of your kind in my house and would thank you to refrain from ever coming here again."_

_Arlene stared at the woman before her, shaking with fury, and in spite of herself allowed an iota of pity for Evelyn Clark. The hurt was so clear in her eyes; she had been so betrayed by Alice's father and had allowed herself to be destroyed by it. There was one fact however, Arlene felt it necessary to correct her on._

_"Mrs Clark, I feel that it is my duty to inform you that Alice's father is no longer alive. I am truly sorry to cause you any more distress-"_

_"He- he's dead?" Evelyn Clark groped for the doorframe and leaned heavily against it "I don't believe you."_

_Arlene reached into her pocket and produced a sheet of parchment that she had requested from the Ministry Archives in order to confirm Alice's paternity "I wish that I could tell you something different…" She said softly, handing the parchment over to Evelyn. The thin woman took it in trembling hands, her glistening eyes roving over the words._

_"'Arrest report compiled by Auror Moody'," she murmured, her voice cracking. It began to rain even harder. Arlene watched in silence as Evelyn read the report aloud "'Evan Rosier unwilling to co-operate… unavoidably killed during attempted detainment…'"_

**Present Day**

"Alice, what happened?" George helped Alice to her feet and together they surveyed the living room. Alice leaned heavily against him as she stared dazedly at carnage she had unwittingly caused "I'm not sure. One minute I was-" She mumbled distractedly before stopping short " – and then this." She turned to him "George, is this magic?"

George felt his stomach clench. There was no concealing it from her any longer. What could he do now? How was he ever going to explain this to the Wizengamot? Would the ministry take Alice away and study her? There were no documented cases of Obscurials surviving beyond childhood so there was no question that she was a magical marvel. Would she be put on display like an animal? Would he ever see her again? Would she be safe from people like Nott if he couldn't protect her? George opened his mouth to reply that it could just as easily be a coincidence – just like the kitchen window- but stopped himself before he could speak. It wasn't up to him to keep something like this from her. If nothing else, he owed her that much. She deserved to know who she really was.

"Yes, this is magic," he said softly "Alice, I think you're a witch."

X

It had seemed, upon closer inspection, that very few of the things in the living room were likely to be salvageable. After picking through the first few layers of it with George holding some things up questioningly only for Alice to shake her head morosely they gave in and filled several black sacks with things to be thrown away.

Now, George hovered nervously in the centre of the gutted room, plucking at the cuffs of his suit and praying that he hadn't made a huge mistake in trusting Alice when she had turned to him after they finished stuffing the last of the black bags into the huge outside bin. “You'll come with me tonight, won't you?"

He had stared at her in confusion for a moment before remembering that she was talking about attending her sister's engagement party "Are you sure that's a good idea?" He'd asked, frowning. It had begun to rain very lightly, finely coating their hair and shoulders.

Alice had shrugged a little too casually and looked down at her shoes "I don't see why not. Mother already thinks we're together-"

George shook his head "That's not what I meant," he'd said gently "The last twenty-four hours have been pretty rough for you. Are you sure you're up to facing your family tonight?"

The look in her eyes had been one of surprise that he should be concerned for her wellbeing. It was the same one that she had given him that night in the bar - a glimpse of the vulnerable person beneath the cheerful and carefree surface. She smiled a little sadly "You're right of course, George. But I can't let Sarah think that I'm avoiding her and Pete. Besides, we both know perfectly well that my absence will only cause Mother to turn up at the flat again and that's the last thing I want right now."

George grimaced as he remembered the one and only encounter he'd had with Evelyn Clark "Fair enough…" he conceded as they trudged back inside, still vaguely concerned that throughout all of this, Alice still did not seem to want to address the fact that she had just learned of the extraordinary power that she possessed. When he'd pressed her for information on what had happened while he'd been downstairs talking to Arlene she had been surprisingly cagey, unwilling to talk to him about what may have triggered her magical outburst.

Back in the present, George replayed the conversation once more in his head before leaning out into the hallway and calling out "Would we have to say I'm your… boyfriend?"

"Why? Are you afraid to have a witch as your girlfriend, George?" Alice called back playfully.

George ducked back into the living room to hide the blush he knew was creeping up his cheeks "You seem to be taking the fact that you're a witch quite well." He remarked gingerly, hoping she wouldn't detect the note of insincerity in his voice.

"Honestly, George? I'm more surprised that _you_ didn't catch on. I mean, you are a wizard after all. Surely you have some sort of radar for other magical people?"

"I guess I've lost my touch..." George cringed inwardly, grateful that Alice was in the other room and therefore unable to see the guilt written across his face. Should he tell her that he had known about Alice's magical abilities for months? That the seemingly harmless old lady in the flat downstairs knew as well and what's more, was there to protect her from people who wanted something sinister with her? Also, what was 'radar'?

"Of course, the threat of a witchy girlfriend might be slightly more fearsome if I actually knew any magic…" Alice said airily, sweeping into the living room. George felt his heart stop inside of his chest. Gone was the slouchy loungewear from earlier and in it's place was a black figure-hugging dress that clung to every curve. The back was low, showing off her tanned and smooth skin. She had swept her fair hair into an elegant wavy knot pinned low near the nape of her neck.

"You look beautiful." He managed croakily, his mouth suddenly dry. Alice beamed at him and his heart soared. “You look wonderful too, George. Very handsome." She crossed the living room and reached out to him. As she did, George caught her scent and suddenly became very aware of the last place he had smelt such an intoxicating mix of honeysuckle, warm summer nights and fresh writing parchment – not too long ago, in a kitchen not a million miles from where they were standing where the stunning creature gently straightening his tie had unwittingly held out a bottle of Amortentia for him to smell. George suddenly became aware of feeling several intense emotions all at once. 

"Thanks for doing this," Alice said bashfully, dipping her head "I know it's not your idea of fun, but… I do feel safer when you're near me." She looked up at him. Brown eyes met blue. George swallowed hard. Alice's hands seemed to linger a little longer than necessary, coming to rest on his chest. 

George felt sure she would feel his heart thumping beneath the flat of her palm "I meant what I said before Alice," he murmured "I would never forgive myself if you got hurt."

Alice smiled softly at him, and in that moment something left George, a weight on his heart that he had grown accustomed to in the years since Fred had died - the weight of always feeling as though he was only half as good as he might have been. It was strange that the absence of something could weigh so heavily. It was only for a few seconds before Alice turned away to pick up her bag, but in that brief and precious window of time, George Weasley felt whole again.


	22. Decimate

The party was being held at a lavish hotel in central London. As they stepped out of the cab and hurried in from the cold December night, George noticed the way that both doormen gave Alice a more than appreciative glance and allowed himself to smile inwardly as they caught him watching them, swiftly averting their gazes.

The hotel was more luxurious and decadent than any place his family had ever set foot in. Gleaming chandeliers hung from the high ceilings and the flowers looked as though they may die but didn't dare wilt. As they walked into the ballroom that had been booked exclusively for the party, George watched out of the corner of his eye as Alice seemed to mentally steel herself for the ordeal she was about to endure.

He reached out and gently touched her arm "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" On the ride over, something had occurred to George – what if the stress of the evening triggered Alice's Obscurial like it had earlier in the day when she had destroyed the living room? She had been so cagey about what had caused the magic to explode out of her like that, insisting that nothing out of the ordinary had happened while he was out of the flat. George hadn't believed her for a minute.

Alice gave him a smile that he didn't quite believe "I'm always a bit nervous before I see them…" She looked sad when she said that, and George was suddenly reminded of his own huge and boisterous family. He wondered what it must feel like to have spent a lifetime feeling as though you didn't belong anywhere. He reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they wound their way through the crowds to where Evelyn Clark was standing, glaring darkly at the waiter as he nervously topped up her champagne glass. George had thought that the thoroughly unimpressed expression on her face the last time they had met had been more to do with the fact that she had just discovered that her daughter was living with a strange man, but now he could see that she simply looked that way all the time.

"Hello, Mother." Alice said with false cheerfulness as she smiled a bright unconvincing smile "You remember George?" She reached behind her to where George was standing nervously and made a grab for his hand, pulling him closer to her in much the same way a drowning person reaches for a raft. He smiled politely and proffered a deferential hand to Alice's mother.

Evelyn Clark eyed him balefully, her gaze travelling from his outstretched hand to his face and back again. She sniffed derisively "Yes, I remember." She turned away to greet other guests, leaving the extended hand in mid-air. Alice turned back to him. “I'm afraid that's the best you're going to get from her or my stepfather." She gave him an apologetic look "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," George smiled warmly at her "I'm here strictly as a means for you to show your family how much better off you are without Pete. I'd say that a lack of a handshake paired with how stunning you are is a good start." Alice blushed at his words and George felt the same crackle of electricity between them that he had felt when she had stepped into the living room earlier that evening. They were standing close enough together that their voices stayed low and George found himself staring at the tiny constellation of freckles just beneath Alice's left eye. He fought the urge to reach up and brush the pad of his thumb across the softness of her cheek and forced himself to cast his gaze down at his shoes.

Alice grinned "Come on. Let's go and find the bar before I expose you to the rest of my family."

X

"Alice."

George felt Alice freeze next to him at the sound of her name, the glass of champagne halfway to her mouth, her face a mask of mortification and despair. He watched as slowly, so slowly, she lowered her drink and turned to face the man standing behind her.

"Hello, Pete."

Ah, George understood. So this was the ex-boyfriend. He gave him a swift appraisal from behind his own glass as Alice stepped forward to give Pete a clumsy and underwhelmed congratulatory kiss on the cheek. He looked like a bit of a git, George thought to himself sourly. He was shorter than average and showed too many teeth when he smiled, like a shark. He was also thinning on top, which George deduced he was less than happy about by the way he had meticulously combed his hair forward from the back of his head. He had the expression of a man who had fallen in Hippogriff muck and come up smelling of roses, and whilst he couldn't quite believe his luck, he was damn sure going to take advantage of it. Had she been present, Molly Weasley might remark that his eyes were too close together. All his life, George had failed to understand the negative connotations of such a damning criticism until he had come to be standing in the presence of the man who had treated Alice - his Alice - so very badly.

 _'Your Alice, eh?_ ' George almost gave a start as Fred's fond but teasing voice whispered at the back of his mind ' _You've really gone off the deep end on this one, haven't you Forge?_ '

George stopped himself before he could reply out of habit and grimaced as the familiar sound of his twin's laughing timbre reverberated around his brain. He waited, bracing himself for the wave of sadness, the realisation that once again he had caught himself trying to talk to a memory. He barely had time to register that it didn't come before he found himself being introduced to Pete.

"George, this is Pete - my sister's fiancé." Alice's voice was a little strained and George noticed that the fingers curled around her evening bag were white at the knuckles. Behind her, Pete was looking at him with the same critical and unimpressed gaze he had received from Alice's mother.

"I take it you haven't been seeing each other very long?" He drawled, offering Alice a smile which was half insincere pity and half delighted sneer "Really Alice, you needn't have brought a plus-one just for the sake of it."

Some instinct inside George, one he had long thought buried, suddenly roared into life. Making a snap decision, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Alice's waist, pulling her against him and placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. With his free hand, he reached out to Pete.

"Actually, we've been living together since the Autumn," Pete took George's outstretched hand and George made a point of squeezing just a little bit too hard as he shook it. Pete winced and pulled his hand back quickly as though he'd been burnt. He shot Alice a peevish glance.

"You should have told your mother that you were living with someone, Alice. I mean, it would have been nice if you'd introduced him to your family before today."

Alice raised an eyebrow "Actually, Mother already knew as it happens. Anyway, I rather think you're the last person who should have an opinion on what people should be telling other people in a timely fashion, don't you Pete?"

George placed his hand on Alice's lower back in a gesture of support. She was warm and soft against his palm and without fully thinking about what he was doing, he began to move his fingers in lazy circles, drawing random patterns on her bare skin.

Pete held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. His expression was sincere, but his eyes seemed to twinkle with malice "Come on now; I thought you'd promised Evelyn that you wouldn't spoil this evening for your sister..."

"Which is a shame really," said George before he could stop himself "Seeing as I have a plethora of experience in ruining family gatherings for the sake of a cheap laugh. But you see Alice here is a much kinder person than I am, so she's unlikely to do anything that will leave a mark on this evening. I, on the other hand," George continued airily, buoyed by the fact that Alice was leaning into his touch as he continued his gentle ministrations on her lower back "Made no such promise to anyone." He gave Pete a hard smile "So I suppose you'll just have to watch your back."

Pete stared at George, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he weighed up whether to reply to him. In the end, he shot them both a final poisonous glare and stormed off.

Alice exhaled heavily and turned to face George "Well, that was as hideous as I expected it to be." She tossed back her champagne and signalled to the bartender for two more.

George tried to ignore his disappointment at Alice no longer being so close to him "Sorry if I overstepped the mark. By telling him to watch his back, I mean." He felt shy and awkward, suddenly concerned that she might think he was apologising for the way he had touched her. Although perhaps he probably should do that anyway… but she had leaned into his touch, hadn't she? He hadn't imagined her shivering as he had gotten braver, exploring the silky skin of her lower back, had he?

Alice shook her head "I thought it was sweet. Even if we do pay for it later. Pete has a nasty habit of telling tales like a child so chances are he's off finding Mother or Sarah to tell on us even as we speak." She leaned back against the bar "So how long has it been since you last ruined a family gathering?" She smiled impishly and George found himself grinning back at her.

"Well, at my brother Bill's wedding, Fred and I had planned to charm several guests to stand up and speak when they were asked if anyone objected to the marriage but Mum found out about it and threatened us with actual bodily harm if we did anything to ruin the day." George felt the familiar tug at his heartstrings the way he always did when he spoke about Fred, but couldn't help laughing as he remembered his twin's declaration that there would be no such nonsense at his own wedding, even if he had to put Molly in a full body-bind curse until it was over.

Alice smiled "It sounds like you two were a piece of work growing up."

George nodded "I think we still hold the record for the highest number of detentions in Hogwarts history." He sipped his champagne, the bubbles stinging his lips "But it was a cross we were willing to bear in the name of fun."

Alice reached out and clinked her glass against his "In the name of fun…" she toasted softly.

X

Alice leaned closer to the mirror in the ladies' in order to check her lipstick. She was pleased with how she looked tonight, even more so when her entrance to the living room had stopped George in his tracks. It felt good to be dressed up and out doing something glamorous, even if she was stuck having to put up with her chilly family for the evening in circumstances that were inauspicious to say the least. That morning and Fred's revelation to her that she was a witch felt like a million years ago. Alice knew that her reluctance to talk about what had caused the magical explosion had made George suspicious. Every time she considered the fact that she was concealing his twin brother's ghost from him, the guilty feeling in her stomach increased. For some reason, it made her feel sick to lie to him like that.

There was soft music piping into the ladies' through concealed speakers. It was classical and very calming and Alice smiled as swirls of soothing lavender and turquoise framed the mirror. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was alone she reached out a hand, her fingers mingling with them, the texture cool and silky against her skin.

"So this is real," she murmured to herself "It's not just in my head…"

The shock of learning that the images that came to her when she heard music or sang were in fact very real and not a product of misfiring neurons hadn't fully settled in yet. Alice thought of all the times people like Mother had told her to keep quiet, to stop looking for attention. She wondered if her family had any idea that she was a witch. What was it Fred had said? Someone would have come to the house to explain everything to them. Did that mean that Mother had known all along that she was different and just not told her, instead preferring to let her believe that she was somehow... defective? Alice felt a spark of bitterness ignite inside of her at the thought, her eyes filling with angry tears.

"Nice of you to turn up." Alice whirled around and came face to face with her half sister, resplendent in an evening dress that undoubtedly cost more than the entire bar bill but did nothing to detract from the cruel curve of her sneer, the vicious gleam in her eye. Out of the two of them, Sarah looked more like their mother - yet another reason Alice imagined she herself had failed Evelyn in some way. Sarah eyed her critically, somehow managing to look down her nose at Alice despite being almost a full head shorter.

"You've been crying," She finally announced meanly, jutting out her chin and placing a well-manicured hand on a bony hip "You're not moping around in here to get attention, are you? Mummy said she'd warned you about that already."

Alice felt her face flush and she turned back to the mirror, sniffing a little and cursing herself for letting Sarah make her feel so small "I'm not crying," she tried not to sound as defensive as she felt "I just… Poked myself in the eye with my mascara brush, is all." Alice could feel Sarah's eyes on her back and kept here gaze firmly down as she rooted through her evening bag looking for lipstick that she had only applied a moment ago. She heard the click of Sarah's heels on the tiled floor as she moved to stand next to her at the mirror.

"It won't work, you know."

Alice turned to face Sarah with a confused frown "What won't work?"

Sarah leaned in so closely that she was almost nose to nose with Alice "I know you're just trying to make Pete jealous by bringing that ginger weirdo tonight," her voice was low and dangerous "I know you want to try and steal him back from me."

Alice couldn't help the bitter bark of laughter that rose from her throat unbidden "I don't think you need to worry about that, Sarah."

Sarah reeled back at Alice's laugh, blinking rapidly in surprise before narrowing her eyes "You've always been jealous of me," she hissed "You've always hated the fact that I'm normal and you're a, a-" she flapped a skinny arm around in Alice's direction as though searching for the right word "- _freak_." The word, drenched in bile, slid from Sarah's lips and hung in the air between them. Alice watched as it slowly disintegrated before her eyes, like floating ash from a bonfire. 

She had heard it all before, been subject to Sarah's vicious tormenting for years. But tonight, knowing what she now knew of herself, having had that final piece of the puzzle clicked into place for her, she could only feel the white hot outrage that accompanied the realisation that at some point in her life, there must have been a moment, a turning point wherein everything should have changed for her and she would've no longer had to _put up with this shit_.

And like everything else in her life - the love and approval of her family, the respect she should have received from Pete, the loyalty of her bandmates - like everything else, that beautiful shining moment had been denied to her. Alice felt her whole perspective shifting, stretching, changing in her mind's eye. A deep and primal feeling arose within her - one that she knew she had never felt before but at the same time was intimately familiar with. She levelled her gaze at Sarah.

"You're right, Sarah. I am a freak. Would you like to see what a freak like me can do?"


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay on this - I’ve just had a six months’ worth of writer’s block and I’ve really struggled to pick this one back up again. If you're familiar with my other works then you’ll know that I have a Fred/OC on the go that I’m very passionate about but I promise that ALFEP hasn't been dropped in favour of another piece. I’ve just found this a little harder to write lately. Thank you to everyone who has review for their continued support and I hope you don't feel too let down.

George idled awkwardly in the plush hallway that led to the restrooms, twirling the stem of his mostly empty champagne glass between his fingers. He was drunk, or at least he very soon would be, but not in the same way he had been the night that Alice had dragged him from his bed and taken him to the bar with the Jagerbombs. That night had been an all-consuming, dedicated march toward oblivion - a swan dive off a cliff into an ocean of numbness. Comforting, but accompanied by the unavoidable knowledge that such a feeling would later return to exact a price from him.

But this... George peered into the glass at the shimmering, effervescent liquid and wondered how they managed to make it so that he could feel it fizzing gently in his veins. It was like he had been drinking the stars. With this, there was no looming threat of a vengeful hangover in a few hours’ time. 

Of course, there was a very real possibility that it was not the champagne that was causing him to feel lightheaded, and George blushed when he thought about Alice’s soft skin beneath his fingers, the way that his palm had fit so neatly into the small of her back. He had not realised up until that moment that his expectations for the remainder of his life without his brother had been so low that a mildly risqué sensory experience had not only exceeded them, but left him stupefied. 

Turning his good ear in the direction of the ballroom, he could hear the party continue it’s medley of boring chitchat, vicious gossip and horsey-sounding laughter. Growing up without money or connections had never been an unpleasant experience for George, but as a teenager he had occasionally indulged himself by fantasising about the incredible parties he and Fred would throw when they finally made their fortune, the society they would be able to rub shoulders with. George had to admit that although the aesthetic of the party was not what he had envisaged (too many muggles and not enough Elvish wine), in his mind’s eye the atmosphere of the event had been identical to this one. Back then, he had craved it, longed for it. Now, with an all-access pass to such an occasion he only felt suffocated, overwhelmed by the sheer smallness of the people he saw everywhere he looked. 

Perhaps it had never really been about the parties and the glamour after all, but rather about proving something to the Malfoys and the Notts and the Parkinsons of the world. Proving that it was possible to succeed through sweat and toil and sheer bloody hard work instead of relying on your father to shake hands with the right people. He and Fred had built their empire from scratch, charted their own course to success. There had been difficulties of course, but that had only made their victory sweeter. 

And then Fred had selfishly gone and got himself killed, and George had realised with sudden and alarming clarity how high they had risen and how easy it would be for him to plummet straight back down.

George downed the last mouthful of champagne and cast a hopeful glance down the hallway when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, hoping to see Alice sashaying back toward him. He sighed when he realised that it wasn’t Alice hurrying down the hall in his direction but a harassed looking waitress. She hurried past George, not meeting his eyes. He watched as she scurried back into the ballroom and disappeared among the crowds before sighing and leaning back against the wall to wait for Alice. She had left him here to wait for her with a smile and a hand that had lingered a little too long on his arm. George had watched her go, hoping the blush creeping onto his cheeks wasn’t too obvious. 

The entire evening had been like that after her tosser of an ex-boyfriend had stormed off. Tentative to begin with - little unnecessary touches, standing too close to one another, a gaze that lasted a second too long. At first George thought he had imagined it or at the very least been unrequited in the attraction he had to his landlady, but when she had leaned forward and placed her hand over his to emphasise the point she had been making, George had been unable to resist catching her fingers as she had gone to pull away. Alice continued to talk as though nothing had happened, lazily intertwining their fingers, running her index finger softly across his palm. George was spellbound by the feel of her touch. It felt dangerous to be heading down this path with Alice given what he now knew about her, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. After so long living only half a life, he could feel himself craving the way she made him feel - a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

The smell of smoke accompanied by a piercing scream filled the air and George was dragged from his reverie. He realised with dismay that the commotion was coming from the Ladies’ restroom and without stopping to think, took off at a run toward that end of the corridor. As he reached the restroom door, an alarm sounded somewhere overhead and suddenly he was soaking wet. How had muggles invented a way to make it rain indoors? 

George burst into the Ladies’ room, coughing on the acrid smoke that was already beginning to obscure visibility “Alice! Are you alright?”

Through the haze, he could see only the vague outlines of two people, one cowering on the floor crying hysterically, the other standing over by the cubicles, batting her hands wildly in the air and coughing harshly.

“Alice!” George yelled again before bringing his sleeved arm up to cover his mouth, his eyes watering.

“George?” Alice’s voice, strained and brittle from smoke inhalation, seemed to be coming from the figure by the cubicles “George, there’s a fire!”

“You ruin everything!” The figure on the floor wailed “This is all your fault!”

Despite the more immediate pressing concern of how he was going to get Alice and himself away from the fire, George felt a faint cold fear at the words the other figure had uttered. Alice’s fault? Had she performed magic again? In front of a muggle? 

“George, get my sister out of here!” Alice choked “I’ll look for a fire extinguisher!”

“Don’t be insane, Alice!” George yelled back, stooping to the floor and hauling the weeping woman roughly to her feet. There was no avoiding it now. He would have to alert the Ministry. 

Charging out of the restroom door and depositing Alice’s sister on the luxurious carpet outside, he cast around a quick glance to make sure they were still alone before retrieving his wand from his jacket. Sarah’s eyes widened.

“What on earth do you think-“

“Obliviate.” George whispered with a flick of his wand and Sarah’s indignation gave way to a mellow docility but George didn’t even stop to check that the charm had taken properly before running back toward the Ladies’ Room. The visibility was so poor now that he almost tripped over Alice, who was on her knees fiddling desperately with a strange red contraption. He sank down next to her, grabbing her arms.

“We have to go now, Alice!”

“You don’t understand!” She cried brokenly “It was me! I started the fire! I didn’t mean to but I started it!”

“That doesn’t matter now!” George pulled her to her feet “We just have to get out of here!” Without waiting for an answer, he began to drag her toward the exit, ignoring her cries. 

Sarah was no longer where he had left her on the floor outside the Restroom, and George could only assume that she had been found and evacuated by some well-meaning person. Although if he was being totally honest, he didn’t much care what happened to her. The only person he cared about was huddled into his side, her arm around his waist, shaking as she coughed profusely on the smoky air. 

George steered them officiously back through the ballroom which was in the final stages of being evacuated. Together, he and Alice surged with the crowd back out into the street, gasping as the freezing night air hit their lungs. Alice instinctively drew even closer to George, shivering with the sudden temperature drop. He immediately shed his jacket and wrapped it around her, taking her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes “Are you alright, Alice?” He asked gently “What happened?”

Alice stares back at him, lip quivering and eyes bright with unshed tears “I started the fire,” she whispered shakily “I didn’t mean to… I just couldn’t stop it.” A single tear escaped and dribbled down her smoke stained cheek. Without thinking, George reached up and wiped it away with his thumb. Before he could reply however, a voice appeared at his elbow.

“Mr Weasley? Doctor Clark?” They both jumped at the sound of their names, wheeling around confusedly to see one of the waitstaff standing next to them. She was holding a tray of champagne, presumably to prevent the guests from going back inside in search of a bar to charge their glass. She proffered it, a look of concern in her eyes “May I offer you a drink?”

George frowned “Didn’t I see you in the hallway earlier?”

“You left the Ladies’ room just before the fire started!” Alice exclaimed. The waitress smiled reassuringly at them.

“My name is Daisy - our mutual friend sent me to keep watch on you tonight.” At George’s blank look, she rolled her eyes “The instruction was to ‘follow you around like a dog’.”She held up a hand to silence George as he opened his mouth “Don’t worry - I’m not with the Ministry. I owe Arlene a favour.” She grimaced “About a million favours, actually. My job was to make sure nothing…” she paused, seemingly searching for the right words “Set something off, if you know what I mean.”

“Bad luck,” Alice said miserably, her shoulders slumping “Didn’t quite manage to catch me before I set the joint alight, did you?”

Daisy laughed, a raucous, boyish sound “You didn’t start that fire - I did.”

George and Alice gaped at her “You started the fire?” Alice echoed disbelievingly. Daisy nodded, grinning. Around them, partygoers were talking in loud braying voices about how cold they were. It was only when Alice heard someone querying whether it was alright to go back in out of the wet did she realise that it had started to rain, soaking through the clothes that had already been ruined by the hotel’s sprinkler system.

“But… why?” George asked.

Daisy shrugged “I saw Alice’s sister follow her into the restrooms and decided to apparate into one of the cubicles and listen in.” She threw Alice a sympathetic glance “She’s a vicious one, isn’t she? Anyway, I could sense that she wasn’t going to leave you alone, so I started a fire as a distraction.” She pulled her waistcoat aside to reveal her wand neatly tucked into the waistband of her trousers “You’d be amazed how far a little incendio will go.”

George shook his head “Trust me, I know exactly how far.” He said grimly at the same time as Alice sputtered “That was not little!”

Daisy grinned “It did the trick, didn’t it?” Behind her, a red-faced middle aged man was attempting to catch her attention, his eyes fixed on the tray of drinks she was holding. Daisy steadfastly ignored him, her gaze on George “Listen, you should go. It won’t take long for the Ministry to get word of this and when they do, it will only be a matter of time before things get tricky for you. Get out of town for a while, maybe? Take a break?” She glanced at Alice meaningfully and this time, George could not mistake her meaning. Daisy gave them a final smile as she began to back away into the throng of people. With a final wink, she was gone.

George and Alice stood in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the space where Daisy had been. It began to rain harder, the icy droplets hitting the tops of their heads with some force now. Alice began to shiver, the adrenaline high of the previous hour’s events wearing off. 

“George?”

“Alice?”

“Are we absolutely certain that I haven’t lost my mind?”

“It’s always a possibility, but I would say in this instance you’re quite sane.” 

“Just checking.”

“Don’t worry; when it happens I’ll let you know.”

They turned to look at one another, their breath rising in the cold night air, clouding between them. Alice frowned.

“What did she mean by ‘get out of town’? Are we in some sort of danger?” 

George grimaced “As much as I hate to admit it, it probably would be best if we got you somewhere safe for a little while. Not tonight though; I need to talk to Arlene before we go anywhere. We’ll leave tomorrow.” He looked at her apologetically “I’m sorry, Alice. This must be so strange for you.”

Alice smiled grimly “What do you have to be sorry for? The chaos would have come either way, George.” She reached out and shyly took his hand “I'm just glad you turned up too.”

George smiled at her, and in spite of the cold night air and their wet clothes, the same unaddressed spark they had been nurturing all evening flickered back into life. Alice took a step closer to him.

“George?”

“Alice?”

“Take me home.”

“Good idea; you should get some rest.”

“That’s not what I had in mind.”


End file.
